The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Friday, September 6, 2019

Homily: 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: Sir 3:17-18,20,28-29; Ps 68; Heb 12:18-19,22-24; Lk 14:1,7-14

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Boy, it's hard to be humble, isn't it? Especially when you're so smart, so competent, so much better than others. Yes, indeed, today self-esteem and self-worth demand self-promotion so others will also recognize our value. And humility? Well it's okay to sound humble on occasion, but to actually be humble, no, that's no way to get ahead.

At least that's what to world wants us to believe; and it's done a pretty effective job convincing us. So much so that humility has become today's lost virtue, and is viewed almost as a vice.

But this is really nothing new. How did our first reading from Sirach begin?

"My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts. Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God" [Sir 3:17-18].

The very fact that these words were written tells us that excessive pride has always been a problem.

In our second reading the author of the Letter to the Hebrews takes his Jewish readers back to the Israelites experience at Mt. Sinai [Ex 18-19]. It was here that God in a very real sense forced humility on them -- the blazing fire, the trumpet blasts, the terrifying darkness and gloom and smoke, the earthquakes, and then God's Word thundering His Law to them.
The Presence of God at Sinai
Yes, God's Presence was so awesome, so frightening that the people begged not to have to witness it again. And so they told Moses, "You go up there. You talk with Him. We're too afraid." Perhaps we too need to be reminded of God's greatness and our poverty, to be humbled by the love He has for us all. 

In today's Gospel passage from Luke, Jesus delivered this same message, but it a far quieter way. He didn't thunder God's Word. No, He simply related two brief parables. 

The passage begins with a sentence that tells us all we need to know about those present.
"On a Sabbath Jesus went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees, and the people there were observing Him carefully" [Lk 14:1].
Who, what, when and where...it's all in that first sentence isn't it?

Jesus had been invited to dine at the home of a important Pharisee, who was no doubt surrounded by all his buddies. We all know what the Pharisees thought of Jesus, so they invited Him on the Sabbath, not to honor Him but to see if He followed the Law. Yes, Luke tells us, they "were observing Him carefully" not as a disciple would observe, hoping to learn, but as an enemy observes, hoping to find fault, to entrap.
Jesus Dining with the Pharisees
What they didn't realize was that Jesus was watching them even more closely. And the one thing He didn't see was humility. Self-absorbed, lacking any generosity, they vied for places of honor at the table. Jesus, then, shared the first of two brief parables with them, one best summed up by its final teaching:
"For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted" [Lk 14:11].
Quite likely these words were lost on those seated at the table with Jesus. How often do we get caught up in our own version of Pharisaism, complaining about perceived slights and demanding better treatment?

A friend of mine is a retired state trooper who once pulled over a U.S. Senator for speeding. The senator's first words? "Don't you know who I am?"

His response? "Yes, Senator, you're a speeder who was going 85 in a 55 zone. License and registration, please."

My friend told me, "I gave him a ticket, but of course it was fixed by someone far above me on the food chain. And I'm pretty sure that same someone also made note of my indiscretion."

"Don't you know who I am?" I expect Jesus heard those same words on occasion.

Now the point of Jesus' teaching is not about speeding tickets or one's place at the table, Parables, after all, always address something deeper than the events they describe. 

This parable is all about that lost virtue, humility. And humility is nothing other than reality. We can get so caught up in our perceived worth as defined by the world, how we view ourselves compared to others, that we neglect the most important relationship: our relationship with God. And through that neglect we forget we are completely dependent creatures, that without God's creative love, without His grace, unmerited and freely offered, salvation would be impossible. In fact, we would not even exist.

This was the relationship that the Israelites recognized at the foot of Mt. Sinai, the reality that so frightened them. It's the stark reality of a relationship, of Who God is and who we are. And without that understanding, the very foundation of humility, no other virtue is attainable.

This fact comes into play with Jesus' second parable, a teaching He aims directly at His host, that first century V.I.P., or very important Pharisee. But it, too, is a parable and so it's not just about dinner invitations. Once again, it addresses our relationships with each other and with God.

Because we are all completely dependent on God's grace, in His eyes, none of us is greater than another. Jesus emphasizes this when He tells His host:

"...invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you" [Lk 14:14].

In God's Kingdom, as members of His family, we all have equal dignity. Our reality is measured not by position or rank or occupation but by how we love and serve God through our relationships with all others. How others view us is far less important than the care and compassion manifested by how we view them.

Our question, therefore, becomes: How can you and I alter the way we live to express this truth in both word and action? Jesus, then, isn't telling us to reject the gifts God has given us; He's telling us to use them to help others, those with fewer or different gifts. 

And yet, as we examine ourselves, so often we fall prey to a subtle form of pride. "Lord, I think I'm actually pretty good. I'm here at Mass every week, I drop an envelope in the basket. I'm nice to others and try not to cause any harm. Yep, I think I'm doin' okay."


Do you hear the pride in these words? I consider myself, and how often similar thoughts have entered into my prayer. It's the person of one who thinks that because of his perceived goodness, he deserves salvation, which of course he doesn't. None of us does. Far better to kneel humbly before God, accepting the reality of His perfection, the reality of our sinfulness, and simply ask: "Help me, Lord."

In the Collect for today's Mass, Father asked God, the "giver of every good gift," to "nurture in us what is good." This, too, is a prayer of humility in which we acknowledge that everything we have is a gift from God, and that we are called to be sharers of these gifts.

Jesus invites us join those God has specially chosen, the poor, the ill, the forgotten, the dying. He calls us not just to write a check, but to walk alongside those whom God loves with special tenderness, and to share with them table and friendship.

This, brothers and sisters, is what we are called to do on our journey to salvation.

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