Homily

The master and the disciple.  What comes to your mind when you hear those two words, "master" and "disciple?" When they are used together, we generally understand the word, "master," as describing a teacher or leader, and "disciple" as the one who learns from and follows after the teaching and the example of his or her master.  For those of you who are parents, if you think about it, you are the masters and your children are your disciples, because you are the ones who teach them about everything through your words and your example.  They are the disciples who take in what you teach them and imitate your behavior.

But every parent knows that being a master is not an easy job at all.  You want what is best for your children, so that they can have the best life possible.  You strive and labor to show them what is good and what is bad, what things they should value and what they should stay away from.  You try to mold their thinking in ways that will bring them success, and you hope you can develop attitudes and foster behavior that will serve them well in life.  You are, in effect, the masters and they are the followers, the students, the disciples.  Much of the time that relationship tends to work very well, but, sadly, not all the time.

When is it hard for the disciples to learn, or to follow you as their masters?  The answer is not "morning, noon, and night" as some of you are thinking.  It is hard for the disciples to learn or follow their parents when they do not see what is truly good.  It's when the good you want to give them involves some kind of hardship, or work, or effort, or self-denial, and that's when the disciples balk and drag their feet and disobey.  That is why they don't clean their rooms, do their homework, or wash the dishes.  Little disciples will work long and hard at jobs or at play when they are doing what they want to do.  A kid can run around the house for hours, but ask him to get you something from the kitchen and you might have well have asked him to walk to North Dakota.

Teaching little disciples to share, to be generous, to be thoughtful of other people and think of them first before you think of yourself is a very difficult job for any master, because it goes against the desires of our fallen natures.   Children understand that sharing always means "less for me;" and generosity is giving something away, even if it's not a material giving, and putting other people first means that I am not numero uno.  (For those of you who do not speak Spanish, "numero uno" means "ya pervshy").

Little disciples also have a problem with desiring and seeking after things that are not good for them but still things they want.  Put a whole bunch of candy in front of them with no restrictions and what is going to happen?  Let them stay up as late as they want and what is going to happen?  Let them use any appliance or power tool whenever and however they want and what will the outcome be?  And, on the other hand, little disciples also try to avoid things they do not like, even if those things are good for them.  It might be vegetables.  It might be studying.  It might be telling the truth when you know you could get punished.  It might mean hiding in order to avoid a job you sense is going to involve you.  It could be refusing to take medicine that's necessary.

These are the challenges that your own little disciples present or presented to you as their masters.  You are/were the ones who are/were trusted the most, loved the most, known the best.  And yet look at the difficulties that exist as you try to master, to be a master, a leader, a teacher, a guide, and a support for them to develop into the best adults they could possible become.  Despite the fact you are nearest and dearest, how hard it is for them at times to follow your lead and obey your good commands.

We are disciples who have a Master, even though He is not our parent.  And if we stop and think about it, we know that even more so than any mother or father who ever lived, our Master is never mistaken or wrong or misguided in what He tells us to do.  He never has selfish or mixed motives behind His commandments, and He is never wrong or confused or uncertain about what He asks us to do.  But we have the same type of problems as children do in following their parents.  Hardship, self-denial, effort — we're not always ready for that when it comes to faith.  Being generous, putting others first, pardoning—these don't always come easy.  We can avoid what is good for us, and grab onto what is bad for us the same as any child.

And that's why I believe Jesus tells us in today's Gospel that if we wish to be His disciples, we must be willing to deny ourselves and take up our cross.  These two things are the most difficult part of following our Master.  It's not the gifts of virtues and graces and the promise of eternal life that make it hard to be a Christian.  It's the willingness to accept the hardships and struggles and pain that come with being a disciple, for our Master did the same for us, even though He had no need to do it for Himself.  He puts the cross out there and asks us to be willing to accept it in here, because although we can find Him in our joy and our happiness, we will most clearly see His love for us in this world, when we willingly carry our cross to follow Him.