The Last Case of Henri Latour – Homily for the Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Paul Harvey

Some of you might remember radio personality Paul Harvey
who used to come on in the evenings and tell The Rest of the Story.
He once told the story of the last case
of the great French detective Henri Latour.

Latour was the Sherlock Holmes of France,
but unlike the famous English detective,
Latour was a real person, an actual police detective.
And he was a living legend when it came to tracking down criminals.

In his last case, a terrible crime had been committed:
an elderly couple had been robbed and brutally murdered.
The police already had a suspect in custody,
but Latour’s instincts told him that this wasn’t the right man.
There were certain pieces missing in the puzzle,
and Latour vowed to find the true criminal.
So he began what some described
as the most brilliant track-down in the history of France.

He put all of his deductive power to work
sifting through clues and investigating leads.
Days and weeks went by
until at last there was enough evidence to clear the initial suspect.
Latour claimed that the proof was positive,
that the man ought to be let go.
The police wanted to keep the suspect in custody,
just in case Latour was wrong.
But Latour insisted,
arguing that an innocent man
shouldn’t have to pay for the crimes of the guilty.

He continued his investigation
until finally all the clues fell into place and he found his man.
The trial was quick,
because Latour’s case was airtight,
and he himself presented the facts to the jury,
weaving a tapestry of evidence before their eyes.
The verdict came back: “guilty.”
Latour had done it again.

But after that case,
without any explanation,
Latour immediately retired
and lived the remaining twenty-five years of his life
as a hermit in a lonely little cottage in a remote French village.

It was only after his death
that the secret of his last case would be revealed.
The innocent stranger that Latour had released
was, in fact, an innocent stranger.
But when Latour had painstakingly collected all of the evidence,
he found that the facts had led him to a truth he could not avoid.
The evidence that he had so meticulously put together
had inevitably and unmistakably led him
to the arrest and conviction of his own son.

In his moment of triumph, the truth had led him to pain and suffering.

During the investigation,
as he had uncovered more and more evidence,
he had been faced with a choice:
Save his son and let an innocent man take the consequences,
or save the innocent man and let his son take the consequences.
Latour chose justice and truth over deception and lies.
He made the right choice,
but at a great cost.
He chose to deny himself.

Jesus tells Peter that to be a disciple
he must deny himself,
take up his cross,
and follow him.

Peter doesn’t want to hear it.
Last week we heard Peter declare confidently that Jesus is
“the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”
He got it right.
Like Latour, the great detective,
Peter had found his man, the heir to the throne of David,
the Messiah that his people had been waiting for all these years.
It’s Peter’s big moment.
He’s been given a new name, and he’s to be the rock,
the leader of the Church.

But it’s immediately after this
that Peter finds out what that really means.
In fact, today’s reading leaves out a little transition phrase
that comes at the beginning of the verse.
This gospel passage actually begins,
“From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples
that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly….”
From that time on.
From the moment he acknowledges that he is the Messiah,
he begins teaching the disciples who the Messiah really is.
Just as the disciples are beginning to congratulate themselves
and feel important for being in the inner circle of the Messiah,
Jesus breaks out the news
that being his disciple isn’t what they thought it would be.

Jesus is speaking to us, too.
Today we’re reminded
that being a follower of Christ means there will be pain and suffering.
Jesus doesn’t say,
“Whoever comes with me will be successful, popular, and powerful.”
He says to us:
“Whoever wishes to come after me
must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

To be a disciple means
we have to be ready for discomfort, inconvenience, humiliation.
Jeremiah experiences that in the first reading.
He’s a prophet, but not someone who tells the future.
In the scriptures the word prophet means “witness,”
and Jeremiah is God’s witness,
the one who speaks God’s words.
As a spokesperson for God he expected to be treated better.
But the people don’t like his message,
so he’s been beaten down and abused.
“You duped me, O Lord!” he yells.
“You tricked me!
When I became your prophet
I thought I would be respected, appreciated, powerful.
Instead I’m laughed at and mocked.”

Jeremiah decides he’s had it.
He’s not going to speak of God any more,
he will no longer be God’s messenger.
But he can’t help it.
God’s word is a fire burning in his heart;
he can’t hold it in.
To be true to his calling,
to be true to himself,
he must speak God’s message to the world.

Peter faces the same thing.

When Peter learns more and more
about the difficulties and sufferings of being a disciple of Christ,
he has a choice to make.
He can leave Jesus,
he can go back to his quiet life of being a fisherman.
But he stays
because he knows that Jesus is the Messiah,
the Son of the Living God.

Like Jeremiah’s prophecies,
discipleship is a fire burning in Peter’s heart.
He can’t help but follow Jesus,
because he knows deep down
that Jesus is the Christ.
He knows the truth.
To be true to his calling,
to be true to himself,
he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Jesus.

We, too, have choices to make each day of our lives.
Like Jeremiah,
God is calling us to be prophets,
to be witnesses to the world of his love and forgiveness and presence.
Like Peter,
God is calling us to be disciples,
to deny ourselves,
to take up our crosses and to follow him.
This is what we are to do
if we are to be true to our baptismal promises,
if we are to be true to ourselves.

What does that look like?

Sometimes it looks like Latour’s last case.
Latour must have felt the temptation to walk away
when he got closer and closer
to realizing that the criminal he was hunting was his son.
He could have stopped being a detective,
he could have let the innocent suspect take the blame.
But he kept up the investigation
because he knew the truth.
It was like a fire burning in his heart
and he couldn’t hold it in.
To be true to his calling,
to be true to himself,
he had to follow the facts of the case where they led,
even if it meant turning his son in.

Sometimes the right decision is the painful decision.
Like Latour, we are sometimes called to choose things
that hurt us or our loved ones.

Each of us lives out our call to discipleship in a unique way.
Whether we are spouses, parents, children, employees, students,
in our various roles and vocations,
God is asking us to be His voice,
and to follow him by denying ourselves and taking up our crosses.

Each of us has our own messages to speak, our own crosses to bear.
For example,
we are God’s voice
when we speak up when we see someone being teased.
We are God’s voice
when we speak up when someone’s not being treated fairly at work.
We deny ourselves when we volunteer to help someone in need.
We take up our cross when we publicly protest against injustice.

When we do these kinds of things,
when we try to be the prophets and disciples God calls us to be,
then it is almost certain that we will be mocked or laughed at.
We may feel like we’re being crucified,
and we may even get angry or frustrated with God, like Jeremiah did.

But to do otherwise would be to turn away from who we really are.
When we don’t speak God’s word,
when we don’t deny ourselves or take up our cross
then we get weary of trying to hold the fire in, just like Jeremiah.

But if we let that fire out,
if we stay true to our calling
as baptized members of the Body of Christ
then we become who we really are:
prophets and disciples for the good of the world.

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