When I was a little guy, about seven years old, not long after the end of World War II, my family spent a year or so in Germany thanks to the U.S. Army. My dad thought it would be good for us to experience life as the Germans did, so instead of living in military housing, we lived on the economy in a fourth-floor, walk-up, cold-water flat in Heidelberg. And he sent my brother and me to German schools. As the youngest I attended Frau Scharmer’s one-room schoolhouse, along with a dozen or so German kids. Of course, as youngsters my brother and I just saw it as another interesting experience orchestrated by my father, as a kind of adventure.
My dad also found the people he met to be remarkably interesting, and so he had a habit of inviting them to dinner, as a way to get to know them better. Because I was so young I don’t recall very many of these folks, but there were a few exceptions. And one in particular made a real impression on me.
He was an elderly man, a Protestant minister, a Lutheran, who had managed to survive several years in a concentration camp because he had dared to be one of the few who preached against the Nazis. Unlike many of his colleagues he refused to take an oath of allegiance to Hitler, proclaiming instead, “I have only one Lord, one Master, Jesus Christ.” I remember him saying, “We can have only one in our lives, for no one can serve two masters.”
Of course, he was only echoing the words of Jesus from today’s Gospel passage in which Matthew relates for us Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. But notice how Jesus followed His remark about serving two masters with a criticism of those who worry. Interesting, isn’t it? Jesus tells us that when we worry about the things of this life we are, quite simply, making those things more important than anything else. In effect, He’s telling us that the things we worry about take control of our lives; that they become the master and we become the slave.
We’ve all known people whose lives are consumed by a desire for wealth…lives that are ruled by money, or the fear of not having enough of it. Others are ruled by a form of vanity, the clothes they wear, how they look…and so as a nation we spend billions to become slaves to fashions and cosmetics. And there are countless other masters out there – all kinds of addictions and obsessions – each taking control of people’s lives, each chipping away at their human dignity, each enslaving them little by little.
Sometimes, though, this subservience to another master can manifest itself in less obvious ways. Back in my consulting days, I was once working with the top management team of a large US corporation. At one point I saw a need to address certain ethical issues that had arisen during the course of our discussions. As I was speaking to them about the connection between moral action and ethical conduct, I was interrupted by the chief executive who stated, “Well, I really don’t see why we need to inject all that religious morality into business decisions.” -- an interesting comment coming from a CEO.
Of course, what he called “all that religious morality” was really just his euphemism for the moral law, for God’s Law. And so it seemed that his company had placed a man in charge who paid allegiance to a different master, who desired success at all costs. And from further conversations with the man it was apparent that he had compartmentalized his life; allowing God no role in his business dealings. You see, brothers and sisters, when we become enslaved by one of these earthy masters, these masters that never last, we lose sight of what is truly important; we lose sight of God Himself.
Oh, but it can get worse, far worse. We can fall prey to multiple masters, all seeking to enslave us. After all, do you remember how the Gadarene demon responded when Jesus asked his name? “My name is Legion, for we are many.” Yes, there are many sources of enslavement in this world. And as that enslavement deepens, we begin to turn against God, to reject His commandments and all that He has revealed. It can even lead to outright hatred of God, and we’ve certainly seen enough of that in our world today.
How did Jesus put it? “No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.” The irony, of course – and faith is filled with irony – is that by becoming obsessed with the unimportant, we strip our lives of the truly important. We lose sight of the only master worthy of our trust. You see, brothers and sisters, unlike everything and everyone else in our lives, God alone can be fully trusted. For divine love is unique.
God calls us to Him. He doesn’t force us; He calls us. And He promises to care for us in this life and give us eternal happiness in the next. We need only trust Him. Just look at the painting of Divine Mercy hanging on the wall over by the sacristy door. Look at Jesus, those rays of God’s mercy and forgiveness pouring forth from Him. And then read the words, “Jesus, I trust in you.” This is what He asks of us.But do we trust in Him? Are we willing to stop worrying about the things of this life? Are will willing to turn to Him, childlike, in total trust? Can you place God first in your life, above everything and everyone else? These are questions that, as Christians, each of us must ask, because our very salvation hangs on our answers.
Pope Benedict, preaching yesterday on this Gospel passage, stated that, “Those who believe in God, a Father full of love for his children, must put the search for his Kingdom and his will in first place. This is the opposite of fatalism...Faith in providence does not exempt from the hard struggle for a dignified life. Instead, it frees from the concern for things and fear of tomorrow.”
The pope went on to ask us to pray that “we may learn to live according to a simpler and more sober style, the hard work of every day and respect for creation, which God put into our care.”
And, brothers and sisters, let’s not forget that our loving God offers us an alternative to worry. He offers us the sacramental life in Christ. This very day, in this Holy Eucharist, God will provide us with all things necessary for life and for our mission in the world. In a few moments, as we conclude the Lord’s Prayer, Father Peter will pray in our name a brief but profound petition: “…protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.”
Notice how the two are woven together. Only by protection from all anxiety can we “wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.” But if you and I, burdened down with worry and care, separate ourselves from our God, we’ll wait, not in hope but in despair, not in joy but in emptiness.
That brief prayer, that petition, is far more profound than we might think. For it’s a prayer in response to Jesus’ admonition to set aside all worry, a prayer in which we ask to be protected from all anxiety as we wait for the Lord. And in response the Lord does come. He comes to us right here and now as His Body and Blood, as the Bread of Heaven and the Life-giving Wine.
You see, brothers and sisters, God rewards our trust by giving us Himself. He asks us to carry all those cares and worries with us as we come forward to receive Him in Holy Communion.
He asks us to leave those worries at the altar, and to stop fretting about what we shall eat and drink. Though unworthy of the gift, we are invited to eat and drink and become one with Jesus through this Eucharist.
As for that worry about what we shall wear, let the catechumens show us at Easter Vigil when they rise up from the waters of Baptism, clothed with white robes in Easter joy.
And so protect us, Lord Jesus Christ, from all anxiety. Feed us with yourself so we may go out from here today to serve you and your people. And let us never forget, in the words of that German minister, “I have only one Lord, one Master, Jesus Christ.”
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