No Favorites! (30th Sunday, Year C)

One of the amazing things about Scripture is that when I take the time to pray with it quietly and calmly, something always jumps out at me. Even when I know the passage by heart, because it’s the Word of God, it’s always new and full of surprises.

This week, the opening sentence of the first reading caught my attention: “The LORD is a God of justice, who knows no favorites.” I don’t know about you, but that sounds completely opposite of how I live! I have all kinds of favorites. When I get into my truck, there’s a favorite seat setting. When I like a song, I hit “thumbs up” and it goes into my favorites. My phone has a list of favorites to call and bookmarks of favorite sites. Even my water filter remembers my favorite number of ounces! The list goes on and on. And don’t even ask me about favorites when it comes to friends, family, or parishioners…I’m not sure I could live up to God’s standard of having no favorites.

When we think about praying to God, don’t we sometimes assume He loves us the way we love others; …..conditionally, …..with a ranking based on how well we behave or how faithful we are? Don’t we sometimes try to earn His love, as if we could somehow become one of His “favorites”? The first reading challenges that idea. As hard as it is to believe, God loves each and every one of us completely the same. In a non-cheesy sense, we are all God’s favorites!

So why does Scripture also seem to say that God favors the poor, the humble, and the oppressed? It’s not because He loves them more, but because they are often the ones most disposed to receive His love and help. God hears every prayer equally, without prejudice, with the same love, concern, and mercy, but the difference happens within us. When we’re surrounded by wealth, power, health, or comfort, we start to believe we can manage just fine without God. We begin to see Him as supplemental instead of essential; someone we go to when we’ve run out of options, instead of our first option.

When someone is stripped of those illusions, when they have no power or resources to rely on, they are able to turn to God in complete dependence. That kind of helplessness puts a person in the perfect place to recognize their need for God. And that’s where grace begins.

That’s the lesson of today’s Gospel. Jesus teaches that we must be utterly humble and aware of our total dependence on God. Whether we’re praying for food, money, health, or mercy, our prayer should come from the perspective of someone who has nothing to prove, someone who simply says, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.” We don’t have to impress God with our accomplishments or our reasoning. He knows what we need and already loves us more than we can imagine. He plays no favorites.

I think it’s also interesting to see how the parable doesn’t deny the Pharisee’s goodness. He actually is a moral man. He fasts, he tithes, and he gives credit to God for his virtues. All things we should do too! But something’s still off. What’s wrong with this Pharisee?

Eleanor Stump, a philosophy professor at St. Louis University, points to St. Thomas Aquinas, who wrote about four types of pride, the vice that destroys the Pharisee’s prayer and renders it unworthy.

Foolish pride: thinking you have an excellence you don’t have, like a child who thinks he’s the best basketball player in the world.

Self-made pride: thinking you have an excellence you do have, but that you achieved it all by yourself.

Self-congratulatory pride: recognizing your gifts come from God, but believing He gave them to you because you’d make better use of them than anyone else.

Superior pride: acknowledging that God gave you your gifts because He’s good, but secretly being glad others don’t have them—because it makes you feel special.

That last kind is the Pharisee’s problem. He’s not lying about his virtue; he’s just using it as a mirror to admire himself. He thanks God for his goodness but boasts of being better than others. He compares himself to the tax collector instead of comparing himself to the holiness of God. As long as he’s “better than that guy,” he feels fine. And that’s a deadly kind of pride, a poison to the soul.

So how do we avoid that trap? The antidote is the virtue of humility. True humility recognizes that every good thing we have is an undeserved gift from the Lord. It doesn’t deny our gifts or talents; it sees them clearly and gratefully. Humility leads us to develop those gifts, deepen them, and then share them freely, just as God freely shared them with us. It rejoices in the gifts of others, even when they surpass ours, because all goodness glorifies God.

We also need to watch out for false humility, which can masquerade as virtue. Humility isn’t putting ourselves down, denying our talents, or pretending we’re worthless. Humility isn’t low self-esteem or self-hatred. It’s seeing ourselves truthfully, as we really are before God, both the good and the bad.

Which brings us to the final point: no matter how good, holy, or gifted we are, every one of us is the tax collector when we stand before the Lord. We all have room to grow in holiness. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of! God already knows our weaknesses, our sins, our failures, and He loves us anyway. He delights in the prayer that comes from a humble, trusting heart. God has no favorites!

As we continue with the perfect prayer of the Mass, let’s make the words of the tax collector our own: “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” If we pray that sincerely, we can be sure God will shower us with mercy, grace, and countless blessings.

 

TP or Not TP? (29th Sunday, Year C)

To listen to this homily, click here.

  One of the cosmic questions that haunts the human race is, “why are some of the simplest things also the hardest to do?” The difficulty comes not so much from the task but the motivation needed to complete them. Things like putting your shoes away and not in front of the door, untying the knot on the plastic bag when you order takeout or peeling that thin paper off a blister pack of medicine!

But maybe the grandaddy of them all is the roll of toilet paper in your bathroom. How hard is it to change when it's empty? It takes, what, five seconds? And yet how many times have we walked into that sacred space only to see a new roll perched precariously on top of the old one…like some sort of outhouse Jenga? Surely it took more effort to get the balance right than just changing the roll!

Apparently, this is a universal struggle and not just something I survived growing up. I read an article that there’s an escalating battle in the TP industry: double, triple, jumbo, and mega rolls are no longer enough. Charmin floated the Forever XL Roll, complete with its own stand. It’s more than 13 inches in diameter and equivalent to 36 rolls of standard toilet paper. Of course, that still doesn’t solve the real problem: who changes the roll, it just delays it.

Changing a roll of toilet paper isn’t the only simple thing we humans have a hard time doing. Prayer is another. What is prayer? In its most basic form, it’s simply talking to God. We can speak with the Lord anytime, anywhere, about anything. He is always listening and present, whether we’re in church, in the car, at work, or on a walk. And yet, even though it’s so simple, we struggle mightily to pray and even more so to keep praying consistently. How often we put it off, stacking many other tasks and distractions on top of something so essential.

Or we start out strong, when prayer feels good and easy, but give up when it becomes dry or demanding. We might even wonder, “If God knows everything and can do anything, why does He need my little words?”

Here’s the truth: God doesn’t need anything from us. He is complete. But He knows we need prayer. Prayer doesn’t change God; it changes us. Articulating what we need, asking favors, expressing sorrow, gratitude, and praise; these things regenerate our spirits, increase our faith, and give us strength, healing, and holiness. God could do everything for us, but like a good parent, He knows we need to be part of the process. Prayer is our participation in the journey of becoming saints and returning home to heaven.

Prayer isn’t hard to do but it’s something we have to do. God can’t do it for us. He’s done the heavy lifting of salvation, sending His Son to conquer sin and death. Our part is to stay close to Him and support one another.

And that brings us to another truth about prayer: we don’t just pray for ourselves or by ourselves. One of the great lies of modern times is this idea of “rugged individualism”, that we’re strong when we don’t need anyone. But God loves us as unique persons and saves us as a community. We’re not spiritual islands making our lonely way to heaven. We go together as members of one Body.

In the marvelous first reading, we see this clearly. Moses is praying for the Israelites as they battle the Amalekites. God gives them victory but He asks Moses to lift his hands in prayer and intercession. When his arms are raised, the Israelites win. But as the day wears on, Moses grows tired, and when his arms drop, they begin to lose. So Aaron and Hur step in. They hold up Moses’ arms so he can keep praying. Together, with God, they help Israel win the battle. It’s a beautiful image of prayer in community.

Jesus is the new Moses, stretching out His arms on the cross until the victory over sin and death is won. Every time we see His extended arms on the crucifix, we’re reminded that He still intercedes for us. But we’re not just spectators! We’re called to be like Aaron and Hur, supporting others in prayer, holding up the arms of those who are weary or discouraged.

I can tell you, as a priest, there have been many times I’ve felt worn out or wondered, “Is my ministry making any difference at all?” And then someone will say, “I’m praying for you,” or “I appreciate what you’re doing.” You have no idea how many times your kindness and prayers have lifted my arms when I was tired.

That’s one reason I love the “Our Father” at Mass. When I extend my hands in prayer with you and for you, I’m reminded that we’re in this together, helping one another in the spiritual battle that continues after we leave church.

Reflecting on these readings also reminded me how often I skimp on prayer. I do fine with a routine during the week but when my schedule opens up, when it’s my day off or I’m on vacation…how quickly I abandon those moments with God! I suspect we can all relate: knowing we ought to pray, but putting it off until the day or week slips away.

So how about this: the next time you see that empty toilet paper roll or some other simple thing that is hard for you to do, let it remind you to pray. It doesn’t take long, it’s easy to do, and it benefits not just us but others as well. Who knows how our day or someone else’s life might be transformed by our prayer? Who knows who might be relying on us to hold up their arms in prayer today?

We don’t need to be theologians or super Catholics to offer powerful prayers. We just need to remember the three C’s of prayer:
It must be Concrete which means real words, real time, accountable, and not vague intentions.
It must be Consistent: a steady habit, not just a reaction when things go wrong. 10-15 min each day is better than 1hr/wk.
And it must be Communal: we need each other’s prayers, and others need ours.

Lord, give us perseverance in prayer like the persistent widow in the Gospel. And may we, like the psalmist, always say, “Our help is from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

No Pain, No Gain (26th Sunday, Year C)

 To listen to this homily, click here.

It’s not every day you get to preach on Habakkuk. In fact, it’s not even every year that he shows up in the Mass readings. For that reason, we must take some time to hear what he has to say. Habakkuk is one of the “minor prophets.” Which doesn’t mean he’s unimportant; it just means he didn’t write as much as the major prophets like Isaiah or Jeremiah. His whole book is only three short chapters, but what he says packs a punch.

He lived during a frightening time for the southern kingdom of Judah. They were on the verge of being conquered by the Babylonians, who were feared as one of the most ruthless empires of the ancient world and unstoppable armies of their time. Their brutality was unprecedented; similar to how we might view groups like Al-Qaida or ISIS today.

Not so long ago, the northern kingdom had been wiped out by Assyria, and Judah had mostly shrugged it off. They lived in comfort, convinced such disaster could never touch them. But now, the enemy was at the gate and terror was about to envelop God’s Chosen ones.

Habbakuk, on behalf of the people, challenges God and says, “how long are you going to let this go on?” We cry out to do you and you do nothing.” Not a good idea to call out God! The prophet and the people get an answer back from the Lord, much of which is cut out of our reading today. God replies he is doing something amazing, so amazing that if he told Habbakuk, he wouldn’t believe it. He is allowing Babylon to conquer and destroy his own people as part of the Divine Plan. This would be like God saying, “I will let ISIS be victorious over America and it is all part of my design. Just have faith.” No one, then or now would believe it! With the perspective of time, we see God does just that with the Babylonians. It doesn’t happen right away; in fact, it takes a number of generations. But in the end, a Persian King named Cyrus, sets the Israelites free and sends them home. Not only that, he even gives them money, materials, and craftsmen to rebuild the temple and offer pleasing worship to God. 

But first the Israelites have to be punished. For generations they have ignored the poor and suffering. The people closest to the Lord, they have scorned. God’s people have fallen in love with the things of this world and the comforts they offer. As a nation, they put their trust in acquiring riches, power, and prestige. They stopped worrying about what pleases the Lord and instead spent their energy trying to please the world around them. Worst of all, instead of spreading the message of mercy, salvation, worship that came from their covenant with God, they remained silent and ashamed about their special relationship with God. 

God never stops loving his people but they have become so wicked that they will only turn back to him when they see their self-appointed idols of riches, power, and worldly alliances fall apart. Their hearts have become completely hardened. 

Only a person with the gift of Faith, could trust that God would work through the Babylonians. Only a person with Faith can avoid having a hardened heart to the voice of God, as we prayed in our psalm. Only a person with faith can bear their share of hardship for the gospel, as St. Paul encourages Timothy to do in the second reading. And if a person has even the smallest portion of true faith, Jesus assures us that they could say to a tree, “be uprooted and cast into the sea” and that would indeed happen.

The obvious connection between all the Scriptures this weekend then is the gift of faith. With it, we can see God’s hand and his care for us, even in the darkest moments of human history. If Faith informs our daily living, we can be like St. Paul, in prison, writing one of his last communications before execution, and still be full of care and encouragement for others. 

There is another, darker side to the coin as well. Without faith in God, the kind of faith that wants nothing more than to know, love, and serve him, we decline spiritually at a rapid pace, both as individuals and as a society. I found myself thinking about this sobering point repeatedly as I wrestled with the readings for today. Maybe that’s why so many preachers skip over this first reading and simply talk about faith without the troubling background of Babylon looming over the Southern Kingdom. The context of Habakuk raises the uncomfortable possibility that we, as modern Christians, have become blind to or tolerant of the substantial suffering of our most vulnerable brothers and sisters. How often do we cry out for God to save us and put an end to the ills of our society, horrible things like mass shootings, corrupt politicians, hypocritical clergy, broken homes, and the epidemics of suicide, anxiety, depression, and addiction. And yet, at the same time we have become largely numb to things like abortion, experimentation on humans at the embryonic stage, human trafficking, the constant death and degradation of refugees around the world, homelessness and the objectification of people for profit and pleasure. 

Will God respond to our prayer for deliverance as he did to Habakuk? That He is indeed doing something amazing, so amazing we wouldn’t believe it if He told us because of our lack of faith. Could it be that many of us in our country and in our Church have hardened our hearts so much that we cannot return to God until we have been purified by suffering and loss, just as the Israelites were? Not an easy thing to consider for sure. But the parallels between their times and ours are eerily similar. 

Only faith will enable us to see God working amidst the sin, sadness, and tragedy that is all too common in our times. Only faith will soften our hearts and move us to work with God to build lives, families, and communities that are righteous, compassionate, and focussed on helping others and offering right worship to the Lord. We receive the gift of faith in small, concrete decisions made each day regarding our relationship with God. We soften our hearts by making time daily to pray and listen to God, reading his Scriptures, going on retreat, and looking to serve others in the name of Jesus, especially the poor, forgotten, vulnerable and inconvenient. We need to make our own the prayer of the apostles today; “Lord, increase our faith.” Even if we just have a little, it can accomplish incredible things. So please, Lord, give it to us. Make us willing to suffer and do whatever it takes to be faith-filled people. Increase our faith today, tomorrow, and every day, amen!