A Reflection for Saturday of the First Week in Ordinary Time
Some scribes who were Pharisees saw that Jesus was eating with sinners
and tax collectors and said to his disciples,
“Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?”
Jesus heard this and said to them,
“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do.
I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” (Mk 2:13-17)
“I am a sinner.”
That was what Pope Francis said in 2013 when posed with the question, “Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?” This was early in his papacy when people were still trying to figure out exactly who Pope Francis was—and he chose then to self-identify, more than anything else, as a sinner. He continued, “The best summary, the one that comes more from the inside and I feel most true is this: I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon.”
Francis’ statement may seem quaint these days, particularly since he has shown such a tendency to reform the Catholic Church, but it speaks to what kind of man he is—an ordinary sinner willing to reflect upon his own life and acknowledge those times when he has done wrong. For if the Holy Father himself can admit this publicly, then maybe it might become easier for us to do the same.
I find that shame and guilt are two of the most difficult emotions to deal with. To have been dealt a bad hand in life is one thing; to have been the cause of your own pain and misery (or, worse, other people’s pain and misery) is something entirely different. Whenever people do bad things, it can be easy to label them as bad people. This is, at the very least, instinctually sound. We want to support the people who have been hurt, not the people who are doing the hurting.
But Jesus did not spend his time exclusively with victims.
Think for a moment about the passage from Mark’s Gospel above. Whose company did Jesus keep? Thieves, adulterers, drunkards—the crowd that people tend to shun because they do not fit into conventional structures of polite society. Moreover, he ate with tax collectors, agents of the state and the physical manifestation of the boot on the neck of the Jewish people at the time. It is not difficult to see why Jesus’ fraternization with these people would have been seen as quite the social faux pas by the Pharisees. But it is important to remember that these are, in fact, people first—as we all are. They are not what they represent to the world but simply sinners.
Once again, let us turn to Pope Francis for a model of how this is applicable in today’s world. He has met with trans women and has even given them V.I.P. seats for his general audiences. Francis has also been an outspoken supporter of refugees and migrants, and he welcomed hundreds of them to the Vatican just this past year. These are examples of Francis’ ministry to traditionally marginalized groups, but he also shows us a more personal example in his own life.
When Cardinal Angelo Becciu was accused of embezzlement of Vatican funds, Pope Francis sought his resignation from his position as head of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. Still, Pope Francis decided—in a rather unprecedented display of pastoralism—to celebrate a Mass at Cardinal Becciu’s apartment just a few months later. This is a man who, in many ways, did not live up to the standards of his office and painted the Vatican in a rather poor light—but Francis showed an extraordinary amount of generosity and care when dealing with someone that had done him wrong. It is something that we can all learn from.
It is easy to support people when they are clear victims. It is easy to shun people when they have done wrong. It is much, much more difficult to support people who have hurt us and help them become better people. Follow Pope Francis’ example. Follow Jesus’ example. Sit down and break bread with the sinners in your life.
