The legends abound in Catholic-world of what has happened whenever Paul’s letter to the Ephesians is proclaimed – and the uncomfortable part is not safely removed. We all know “the line”:
“Wives should be subordinate to their husbands as to the Lord.”
Oh, Paul. Paul. Paul.
One lector in Scranton, apparently, when told by her pastor that she must read that sentence quit on the spot and told Father she was not returning. Another proclaimer was told to read the passage in its entirety and said he would – but then ambled up to the pulpit and skipped the entire section, not accidentally.
“Wives, be subordinate to your husbands as to the Lord.”
It is hard to hear in today’s modern world, and I have always tried to explain it from the perspective of this important angle: Paul is saying that when a husband is truly Godly, it is easy for a wife to allow herself to be under her husband’s care and protection. To listen and follow his lead.
That may be true in some cases. When a husband is holy, it might be easy to be “subordinate.”
But here’s where I have had the opportunity as an unmarried man to learn from women who have had good and faithful men in their lives – husbands, brothers and fathers – and hear this both as a put-down and an outright disregard for the feminine genius (to borrow John Paul II’s words) that they bring to their families and society as a whole. Furthermore, I can only imagine what this statement must feel like to women whose husbands and fathers did not honor the sacred dignity of their womanhood in a host of ways.
Subordination is heard and lived as subjection and obedience.
Does this definition make sense in our relationship with the Lord? Certainly. He is God and we are not. Our lives belong to Him, and without Him we can do nothing. It is helpful to remember this at those times when we even are tempted to tell God we know better; that He somehow owes us something.
But can the same be said for a wife toward her husband?
In some ways, it does make sense when we hear the rest of what Paul is saying: husbands need to sacrifice and lay-down their lives for their wives and children. When they pour out their love as Christ did, then why wouldn’t one want to entrust her heart to him? Love – when it is authentic and other-driven – does not seek to assert dominance and mastery over another. Instead, true love invites.
That’s really the heart of John’s Bread of Life Gospel that we have been hearing these past weeks: we’re at the point now where Jesus has told his followers to feed on his True Presence – his own flesh and blood – and most walked away.
Imagine that moment. Of all the scenes that can break one’s heart in the Scriptures, this does it for me.
Jesus is offering His entire self to the very ones he loved into existence and they outright turn their backs on him. They walk away from Love and Truth. Love gives all and they, in turn, say: “No thanks.”
I do that each time I choose to sin. My rejection of God happens every time I knowingly and willingly reject His grace, his Word, his Spirit and his presence in others. I turn and walk away.
And here’s the amazing part: God does not force me to come back. He could, in theory, because he has that power. But he doesn’t. True freedom and true love never force.
Yes, love warns and freedom points out truth, but when it is genuine, it never turns another into a submissive puppet. Like the father of the prodigal sons (plural on purpose) in Luke’s Gospel, love lets the other walk away in freedom, knowing that the road upon which they journey will only lead to emptiness, hunger, the filth of the pigsty and the refusal of a celebration feast.
The father of the prodigals actually loved his sons enough to let them go, but he never stopped longing for them to return – praying, sacrificing and standing on that porch every day until they did.
Jesus did the same for those who left him that day, and he does the same for us now. He loves us so incredibly much that he is willing to lose us.
Similar to a parent who has agonized over a child who has gone astray, just imagine the Sacred Heart of God. When you really stop and ponder it, it’s enough to make one weep. How many souls have turned away from Christ intentionally? And how much Love does He have in His Crucified Heart to say: “I love you enough to let you go.”
Isn’t it interesting that God has made His Heart submissive to us? He willingly has chosen to humble Himself – subordinate Himself – in Eucharist so that we can feed on Him?
The Lord of All makes Himself submissive in Love. Should we choose to respond in kind, then we too become like Him in all things, especially in love and freedom. When we feed on Him, we become His. We love with His Love. We self-empty and die-to-self. We carry our cross for others. We give all.
When all is said and done, that’s how I wish Paul had worded his letter to the Ephesians (and to us). I get what he was going for. He really wasn’t trying to subordinate women in a demeaning, slavish way as many cultures and societies have throughout the ages. At least I don’t believe he was.
Rather, he was trying to remind us of the Eucharistic love that pours-out and empties; love that offers true freedom, even if that freedom means another has the opportunity to walk away.
Far be it from me to attempt to put words in St. Paul’s mouth or change Scripture, but as I pray with the readings this weekend, here’s what I believe is the true heart of the message: If husbands love their wives as Christ loves us, then their wives will soar – they will not be weighed-down by antiquated demands or childish requests. Both will sacrifice and pour-out for each other, and in so doing, their children and society will be made whole and holy. All will be transformed by such love and freedom.
And if husbands receive the love of their wives in the way they should, then they too will grow in courage, freedom and strength. Just as our Lady shaped the men in her household to become men of love, courage, compassion and freedom, a wife in love with God first and foremost will do the same for her husband. It isn’t submission; it is self-emptying love offered in freedom -- even knowing it could be rejected and tossed aside.
Far be it from us to reject that kind of love and freedom. Rather, through the Eucharist, let us live it.