Overview:

The Memorial of St. John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

A Reflection for the Memorial of St. John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Jesus said to his disciples:
“A good tree does not bear rotten fruit,
nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit.
For every tree is known by its own fruit.
For people do not pick figs from thornbushes,
nor do they gather grapes from brambles.
A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good,
but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil;
for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.

“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ but not do what I command?
I will show you what someone is like who comes to me,
listens to my words, and acts on them.
That one is like a man building a house,
who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock;
when the flood came, the river burst against that house
but could not shake it because it had been well built.
But the one who listens and does not act
is like a person who built a house on the ground
without a foundation.
When the river burst against it,
it collapsed at once and was completely destroyed.” (Lk 6:43-49)

Find today’s readings here.

Today’s Gospel reading always reminds me of one of the more startling homilies I have heard, one from three decades ago on Jesus’ metaphor of the “house built on sand.” The preacher was Thomas P. O’Malley, S.J., the president of Loyola Marymount University at the time. A man of immense learning, Father O’Malley was also prone to digressions and asides whose relevance  sometimes could take his interlocutors a few minutes to figure out. Preaching on today’s passage from Luke (which also occurs in the Gospel of Matthew) at a student Mass, Father O’Malley suddenly veered into a detailed explanation of the geological origin of the bluff on which Loyola Marymount sits. 

Close as it is to the Pacific Ocean and to what was until a century ago the free-flowing mouth of the Los Angeles River, the bluff consisted mostly of a combination of compacted riverbed and other sandy soils, Father O’Malley told us. “In other words,” he continued, “ours is a house built on sand, pace the New Testament example.”

Ominous. And ultimately unrelated to his point in the homily. But it’s been 30 years and I still remember it. 

But this Gospel passage also reminds me of another quixotic character, albeit this one fictional: Paulie Walnuts from “The Sopranos.” What’s this? What does a TV gangster have to do with the foundations of a house? Or with the Gospel at all? In “Remember When” from the sixth and final season of the show, Paulie, the most dyed-in-the-wool gangster of them all, has a vision of a former colleague who ultimately cooperated with the federal government—an unforgivable sin in La Cosa Nostra. (You can imagine how that ended.) Paulie says to the ghost of his former friend in a voice full of doubt:

“When my time comes, tell me: Will I stand up?”

It is one of many memorable lines from that show—and one that has stuck with me over the years. What does he mean? You can go on Reddit or other internet sites and read many theories (don’t), but the gist of it is that Paulie has seen his share of men prove unable to maintain the gangster code. For one reason or another, at least four of Tony Soprano’s top associates become federal cooperators over the course of the show. Paulie’s worry seems to be when he is faced with the ultimate choice—to betray his friends or to stand by his oath—he won’t be strong enough.

It is a moment with its parallels in the Christian life. Who among us didn’t read a story or two as a child of a holy martyr or a saintly figure and think exactly that: “When my time comes, tell me: Will I stand up?” As adults, we watch movies like “Silence” and wonder again: Wouldn’t I also fail when put to the test? Where would I find the strength?

Jesus’ answer today is a more profound version of “practice makes perfect.” If, having heard the message of the Gospel and the proclamation of the Kingdom, we make a mental note to get around to living that message one day, we’re not building up much of a foundation. But if we dig deep, if we build our life with a commitment to the Gospel on a day-to-day basis (even if, God knows, the commitment isn’t always strong), then we won’t be washed away when the inevitable flood comes: We will have the strength and the fortitude to stand strong. 

Few of us will be called to martyrdom, of course; few too to be murderous gangsters with some sick silver wings in our hair and a closet full of white leather slip-ons. But we are of course all put to the test at one point or another, in a matter small or large. We don’t really know if in that moment, we will stand up—but Jesus tells us the best strategy to make the question more rhetorical than anything else.

James T. Keane is a Senior Editor at America.