A Reflection for Monday of the Fifth Week of Easter
Find today’s readings here.
“Men, why are you doing this?
We are of the same nature as you, human beings.
We proclaim to you good news
that you should turn from these idols to the living God” (Acts 14:15)
“Not to us, O Lord, but to your name give the glory.” (Ps 115:1)
You will hear it at the end of any big sporting event. After the game-winning touchdown, buzzer beater, penalty kick, the hero of the game will disregard the premise of the on-field reporter’s question (“talk us through that last play”) and boldly proclaim: “First of all, all glory and thanks to God.”
Depending on your disposition, you might find this kind of response inspiring or meet it with an eye roll. Maybe you are the kind of person who does not get to talk about their faith in their career, and so to see anyone do it, let alone a professional athlete, is inspiring.
On the other hand, even if you are a devout believer, you might find this kind of testimony flat. You feel like it comes out of left field, that the context is all wrong, and that no one asked for it. That it feels more like proselytizing than evangelizing. God obviously doesn’t care about who won the game. And didn’t the other team pray too?
In today’s first reading, Paul and Barnabas are Shaq and Kobe, Mahomes and Kelce, or LeBron and…just LeBron I suppose. They have arrived in Lystra, after getting run out of Iconium, and begin preaching the Good News. Instead of hitting a walk-off home run, Paul heals a man who has not walked since birth. The astounded townspeople think that someone from their pantheon of Greek gods has come down to them in human form, a fairly common occurrence in Greek mythology. (In what I’m sure was a fairly humbling experience, Barnabus is called Zeus instead of Paul.) So the local priest comes to prepare a sacrifice to their newly arrived gods.
Paul and Barnabas do not offer a pro forma, “actually that was the one true God who did that, not us.” They are disturbed; they tear off their clothes and run into the crowd like madmen, pleading with them: We aren’t gods! We’re just like you! Turn away from your gods and worship the Living God!
In truth, I don’t typically find the athlete’s sideline profession of faith endearing. If anything, I am like the crowds of Lystra, ready to deify anyone who brings my team a championship. But like Paul’s pleading, the preacher athlete reminds the audience that these sports can be idolatrous, and there is a greater reality underpinning all of this, win or lose. (By the way, Joe Hoover, S.J., has a masterful essay about why my cynicism is wrong and that maybe God does care about who wins the game).
Paul, the master preacher, works with what the idol worshipers give him. They might be hearing about this new God for the first time, but they have heard them in the quiet of their hearts before:
“In past generations he allowed all Gentiles to go their own ways; yet, in bestowing his goodness, he did not leave himself without witness, for he gave you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filled you with nourishment and gladness for your hearts” (Acts 14:16-17)
God is working in every human heart, whether we know it or not. It isn’t just through the homilies and sacraments, or in the Super Bowls or World Cups; it is in the small things that bring our hearts gladness: the smell of rain, the embrace of an old friend, the plot twist in a good mystery novel. Do we tell other people that God is behind these things? Do we dare to believe it ourselves?
