Don’t be a cynic.
A cynic is “a person who believes that people are motivated purely by self-interest rather than acting for honorable or unselfish reasons.” (dictionary.com)
It’s too easy these days to be cynical, dismissing everything and everyone as selfish, in it for themselves. We are called through our baptism to have inquiring and discerning hearts and to follow Jesus in how he lived, how he ministered to all, in different ways, even in a world full of distrust and hate.
People, especially in his hometown, were suspicious of what Jesus was saying and doing.
“Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And Jesus could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And Jesus was amazed at their unbelief. He then continued his teaching in other villages and sent the disciples by two out to continue his ministry.
Jesus was amazed but he still went & ministered & sent the disciples out. Such cynicism is rampant today too, in how we so easily take offense but we are called to live into the hope that Jesus offers all. Jim Wallis in his best-selling book God's Politics says that the obstacle of our faith is the fundamental choice between cynicism and hope. He writes:
"First, let's be fair to the cynics. Cynicism is the place of retreat for the smart, critical, dissenting, and formerly idealistic people who are now trying to protect themselves. They are not naive. They tend to see things as they are, they know what is wrong, and they are generally opposed to what they see . . . They know what is going on, and at one point, they might even have tried for a time to change it. But they didn't succeed; things got worse, and they got weary. Their activism, and the commitments and hopes that implied, made them feel vulnerable. So they retreated to cynicism as the refuge from commitment . . .
"Cynicism does protect you in many ways. It protects you from seeming foolish to believe that things could and will change. It protects you from disappointment. It protects you from insecurity because now you are free to pursue your own security instead of sacrificing it for a social engagement that won't work anyway. Ultimately, cynicism protects you from commitment. If things are not really going to change, why try so hard to make a difference? Why become and stay so involved? Why take the risks, make the sacrifices, open yourself to the vulnerabilities?
"Perhaps the only people who view the world realistically are the cynics and the saints. Everybody else may be living in some kind of denial about what is really going on and how things really are. And the only difference between the cynics and the saints is the presence, power, and possibility of hope . . .
"More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even religious choice. Hope is not a feeling; it is a decision. And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels - what your most basic convictions are about the world and what the future holds - all based on your faith. You choose hope, not as a naive wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world - just like the cynics who have not made the decision for hope."
Don’t be a cynic. Make the decision to live and practice hope. So what does this hope look like in real life? In April 2002, Shifa al-Qudsi was hours away from death.
A Palestinian living on the occupied West Bank, Shifa was the 25-year-old single mother of a six-year-old daughter. She worked as a hairdresser; she had little interest in politics. But after the intifada - the "uprising" - she found herself in the midst of the conflict. Family members and friends were shot; the mother of her daughter's best friend was killed; the constant sound of explosions gave her young daughter nightmares. Finally, she could take no more of it and volunteered to be a suicide bomber. She didn't care that she would die and leave her daughter without a parent; she had no sense that her death would only continue the cycle of violence. She just wanted to kill Israeli soldiers. But Israeli security forces, tipped to the plan, burst into her house the night before the attack and arrested her. She was convicted of conspiracy.
While in prison, Shifa rethought her life, especially her anger and response to that anger. She began reading the writings of Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela. But what turned her around was a female Israeli prison guard who treated her with respect.
Today, after six years in an Israeli prison, Shifa is now part of a group called Combatants for Peace, a group of Palestinians and Israelis who have come together to work for an end to hostilities among the two peoples/nations. "That's what made me feel that not every Israeli is the same," she remembers. "Now my jihad is to send out a message to the world . . . We are a people who want peace, just peace." [The New York Times, October 28, 2016.]
The guard whom Shifa met in prison possessed an authority that was centered not in her position but in the virtue of her character and the respect she offered, not cynicism or hatred. Shifa chose to live in hope. In today's Gospel, Jesus' hearers cannot believe that such wisdom can exist in their midst, that the justice and peace Jesus envisions are simply not possible. They are isolated by their cynicism; hope is beyond their reach, and so they reject Jesus with scorn and ridicule. Jesus calls us - dares us – as his disciples, to embrace his prophetic hope: to change our perspective, our belief systems, and ourselves in order to realize the possibilities we have for creating God's kingdom of peace and compassion for all God’s children in this time and place of ours. Amen.
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