An Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (The Renunciation of Queen Elizabeth of Hungary), by James Collinson (1825-1881). Elizabeth is kneeling with her face against the feet of Jesus. You can see the crown she set aside on the floor next to her.
Elizabeth of Hungary was born into nobility in 1207 AD. However, from a very young age, she saw it as her duty to care for the poor. She would sneak food from the castle’s kitchen to the poor at the gates and tend to their other needs as best she could. She was married young, but even then, continued to give as much as she had, saying, “How could I bear a crown of gold when the Lord bears a crown of thorns? And bears it for me!”
At 20, her husband died, and her in-laws turned her out, not caring for the fact that she was giving everything away. She wrote, “Today, there is an inescapable duty to make ourselves the neighbor of every individual, without exception, and to take positive steps to help a neighbor whom we encounter, whether that neighbor be an elderly person abandoned by everyone, a foreign worker who suffers the injustice of being despised, a refugee, an illegitimate child wrongly suffering for a sin of which the child is innocent, or a starving human being who awakens our conscience by calling to mind the words of Christ: ‘As long as you did it for one of these, the least of my brethren, you did it for me’”
She was later reinstated to some extent, but she never stopped her work for the poor and those in need.
Conrad of Marburg, Elizabeth’s spiritual director, wrote, “She was a lifelong friend of the poor and gave herself entirely to relieving the hungry. She ordered that one of her castles should be converted into a hospital in which she gathered many of the weak and feeble. She generously gave alms to all who were in need, not only in that place but in all the territories of her husband’s empire. She spent all her own revenue from her husband’s four principalities, and finally, she sold her luxurious possessions and rich clothes for the sake of the poor.
“Twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, Elizabeth went to visit the sick. She personally cared for those who were particularly repulsive; to some she gave food, to others clothing; some she carried on her own shoulders, and performed many other kindly services. Her husband, of happy memory, gladly approved of these charitable works. Finally, when her husband died, she sought the highest perfection; filled with tears, she implored me to let her beg for alms from door to door.
“On Good Friday of that year, when the altars had been stripped, she laid her hands on the altar in a chapel in her own town, where she had established the Friars Minor, and before witnesses she voluntarily renounced all worldly display and everything that our Savior in the gospel advises us to abandon. Even then she saw that she could still be distracted by the cares and worldly glory which had surrounded her while her husband was alive. Against my will she followed me to Marburg. Here in the town she built a hospice where she gathered together the weak and the feeble. There she attended the most wretched and contemptible at her own table.
“Apart from those active good works, I declare before God that I have seldom seen a more contemplative woman. When she was coming from private prayer, some religious men and women often saw her face shining marvelously and light coming from her eyes like the rays of the sun.
“Before her death I heard her confession. When I asked what should be done about her goods and possessions, she replied that anything which seemed to be hers belonged to the poor. She asked me to distribute everything except one worn out dress in which she wished to be buried. When all this had been decided, she received the body of our Lord. Afterward, until vespers, she spoke often of the holiest things she had heard in sermons. Then, she devoutly commended to God all who were sitting near her, and as if falling into a gentle sleep, she died.” She was twenty-four.
Elizabeth had the Spirit of God working in her in a way I don’t fully understand, but I believe it’s one we should all try to imitate as best as we can, whether we fully grasp it or not.
A priest waited in line to get his car filled with gas just before a long holiday weekend. The attendant worked quickly, but there were many cars ahead of him at the service station. Finally, the attendant motioned him toward a vacant pump. “Father,” said the young man, “sorry about the delay. It seems as if everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip.”
The priest chuckled, “I know what you mean. It’s the same in my business.”
Don’t you just love waiting in a good, long line? I know I do. Have you ever gone up to the checkout lines in the grocery store and checked each line to see which shopper has the fewest items, just to avoid waiting those extra few minutes? Usually, just as I’ve figured it all out, someone else steps in, and I end up behind the person with two baskets. Oh, yes, I love to wait.
Our first lesson this morning from Malachi was from chapter 4:1-2. However, by stopping at verse 2, I feel like we get a bit shortchanged. I want to share with you through verse 6, which is the end of the chapter, because these are the very last words of the Old Testament.
“For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. And you shall tread down the wicked, for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet, on the day when I act, says the Lord of hosts.
“Remember the law of my servant Moses, the statutes and rules that I commanded him at Horeb for all Israel.
“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction.”
Following these words, there is a 400-year period of silence until the birth of Christ. For thousands of years before these verses were written, people waited for the coming of the savior, the Messiah. Now they are told they will wait some more, and so they do. Finally, after that 400-year wait, “The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary.” And the child was given the name Jesus.
Jesus teaches, gives hope, heals, and raises the dead. He tells us, “The kingdom of God is in the midst of you.” (Luke 17:21b) However, after only three years of ministry, he begins saying things like “The time will come” and “When I come again.” He speaks of trials and endurance, and in doing so, it starts to sound like the kingdom of God on earth is not yet here.
If I were a believer back then, my response to these statements would have been, “What are you saying, Jesus? You mean we have to wait some more?” And Jesus would say, “Haven’t you been listening? Of course, you will have to wait for the Kingdom of God to come to its fullness.” After we get over our disappointment, we must then ask, “How do we, as followers of Jesus, wait?” As has been proven over the last 2,000 years, it is not easy.
Pastor and author Warren Wiersbe observes, “The ability to calm your soul and wait before God is one of the most difficult things in the Christian life. Our old nature is restless…the world around us is frantically in a hurry. But a restless heart usually leads to a reckless life.”
Oftentimes, we get in a hurry, and then we become reckless, even in our faith. God isn’t acting quickly enough for us, so we tend to strike out on our own. Think about the Israelites after the Exodus from Egypt.
They have arrived at Mount Horeb, and Moses has gone up to meet with the Lord, but this meeting lasts longer than the people expected. At this point, “When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered themselves together to Aaron and said to him, “Up, make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.’” So Aaron told the people to bring all their gold jewelry, and he made a golden calf from it. When the people saw it, they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!”
They grew tired of waiting for the one true God, so they created a god for themselves. They made sacrifices to it, worshipped it, then held a feast, got drunk, and danced the hoochie coochie before it. They committed all kinds of wickedness. This serves as a warning for us today: if we become weary of waiting on God, lower our guard, and start following other gods, we risk falling into the same sinful behaviors.
As Christian people, acknowledging upfront that what Wiersbe said—waiting on God is “one of the most difficult things in the Christian life”—then how can we wait without falling into sin? The list is longer, but there seem to be three main components.
Henri Nouwen describes the first in his book Sabbatical Journeys by sharing the story of two friends who were trapeze artists—the Flying Roudellas.
They told him that there exists a special relationship between the flyer and the catcher. As they swing through the air, the flyer is the one who lets go, and the catcher is the one who catches. As the flyer swings high above the crowd on the trapeze, the moment comes when he must let go. He arcs out into the air. His job is to remain as still as possible and wait for the strong hands of the catcher to catch him.
One of them told Nouwen, “The flyer must never try to catch the catcher.” The flyer must wait in absolute trust. The catcher will catch him, so he must wait.
While waiting on the Lord, we must have patient trust. We must wait and trust that the Lord will do exactly as He has promised, but it will be in His own time. We are not to go grabbing at other things, but hold fast to the promise.
The second requirement is confident humility. We must trust that God can do what He promises and be humble enough to recognize that we cannot do it without Him. This kind of confident humility brings a peaceful sense of holiness into our lives, knowing that the chaos around us is not from God. Remember when the disciples were out on the sea and a great storm arose? They were terrified and thought they would die. Chaos was all around them. Where was Jesus? He was asleep in the bow of the boat. When the disciples woke Him and cried out, He rebuked the storm. Jesus spoke into the chaos, and peace was restored.
Confident humility affirms that God can speak into any chaos in our lives at any moment and bring peace.
Finally, while waiting on the Lord, we must learn to recognize God’s voice. In our Gospel lesson, Jesus said some will say, “I am he,” and others will say, “The time is near.” To such claims, Jesus instructed them to “not go after them.” Don’t follow every half-baked idea, and lead a reckless life. Instead, we must listen for His voice, the voice of the Good Shepherd. Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” (John 10:27-28) Yet, if we do not take the time to learn and hear that voice through study and prayer, then we risk being led astray. We must practice listening to His voice so that when He does speak, we can know with certainty that it is Him.
Patient trust, confident humility, and knowing the voice of God—this is not all that is required to properly wait on God, but they are solid building blocks. The Prophet Isaiah writes,
“My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”? Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:27-31)
Patient trust, confident humility, and knowing the voice of God. Let us renew our own strength and wait patiently on the Lord, so that when the day comes, we too may soar on wings like eagles.
Let us pray (from St. Thomas Aquinas): Grant us, O Lord our God, minds to know you, hearts to seek you, wisdom to find you, conduct pleasing to you, faithful perseverance in waiting for you, and a hope of finally embracing you. Amen.
Years ago, a young pastor found the roads blocked one Sunday morning and was forced to skate on the river to get to church, which he did. When he arrived, the elders of the church were horrified that their preacher had skated on the Lord’s day. After the service, they held a meeting where the pastor explained that it was either skate to church or not go at all. Finally, one elder asked, “Did you enjoy it?” When the preacher answered, “No,” the board decided it was all right!
The album, The Stranger, by Billy Joel was released in 1977. I must have been in junior high at the time, but I did have a copy and probably wore it out. I could probably still sing along to all of the songs (not that you would want me to).
One of the songs I remember is Only the Good Die Young. At the time, I had no idea what it was all about, but I eventually sorted it out. And even more so when I was introduced to John Keating, the English professor that Robin Williams played in the Dead Poets Society. He told students, all young men, that “Language was invented for one reason, boys – to woo women – and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do.” The song Only the Good Die Young was just such an attempt.
“You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation You got a brand new soul Mmm, and a cross of gold But, Virginia, they didn’t give you quite enough information You didn’t count on me When you were counting on your rosary
“And they say there’s a heaven for those who will wait Some say it’s better, but I say it ain’t I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints The sinners are much more fun You know that only the good die young”
“The sinners are much more fun;” therefore, all fun must be declared sinful and stamped out at all costs. How do we stamp out fun? We make laws. How do we force people to follow the laws? We threaten them with all sorts of punishments. And, finally, who is best suited to write and enforce these laws? The Church! Can I get an “Amen”? Actually, religious leaders of every make and model, even before Jesus, have been doing this. During Jesus’ time, and with Judaism, there were two major parties of religious leaders and several minor ones.
The minor groups included the Essenes, Zealots, and Scribes, each with their own agenda. The two main parties we hear most about are the Pharisees and the Sadducees. Who were they?
Between the two groups, the Pharisees were more popular with the people and the common man. Although they were associated with the Temple through their faith, they were not the priests serving there. Instead, they focused on the Mosaic Law found in the Torah and other Old Testament writings. They would interpret the Law further and then interpret their interpretations, all aimed at leading to personal righteousness before God. The problem, and what Jesus criticized most, was that they got so far down in the weeds with their interpretation and application of the Law that they forgot about the souls of the people.
In His criticism of the Pharisees, Jesus said, “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others.” (Matthew 23:4-5) And again He says of them, “You are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness.” (Matthew 23:27)
They did, however, believe in the resurrection, but it was earned through works, not by faith. Favor was granted through obedience. To gain eternal life, one had to follow the Law to the letter. The Lord, speaking through the Prophet Daniel, said, “Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.” (Daniel 12:2) The side of the bed you woke up on depended on whether or not you kept the Law. Nonetheless, this led to their understanding of the resurrection, which was one of the differences between the Pharisees and the Sadducees.
The Sadducees were the priests who controlled everything related to the Temple and the sacrificial system. They strictly followed the Mosaic Law, but their understanding was limited to the Law as written in the Torah—the first five books of the Old Testament. They did not recognize the authority of the other books—the Writings and the Prophets.
The Sadducees were the elites of society and in close relationship with the Romans. If your main concern is Temple worship, then you focus on keeping the peace and the status quo so that sacrifices can continue. They also prioritized their Jewish identity. As we read today, they did not believe in the resurrection. Instead, they believed that when you die, well, you’re dead—nothing more.
With such a belief, you might ask, “What’s the point?” Why go through all these rituals, follow the Law, make sacrifices, and maintain the Temple if, in the end… poof? The answer goes back to their identity. They did what they did for honor, for the nation of Israel, and for future generations. Perhaps the heretical teachings of the prosperity gospel today are the best way to understand the Sadducees—if you follow God and do what He tells you, then you get the big house on the hill. So, the best you can hope for after you die is to be remembered and leave a nice inheritance. Why didn’t they believe in the resurrection? Remember, they only followed what was written in the first five books of the Bible, the Torah, and they did not believe the Torah taught resurrection, so for them, it did not exist.
After the Temple was destroyed in 70 A.D., the Sadducees disappeared because, without the Temple, the sacrificial system could not continue, and there was no need for priests. So, the “brand” of Judaism that continues, even today descended from the Pharisees, with their emphasis on adhering to the Law and its interpretation.
Today in our Gospel reading, Jesus encounters some Sadducees who propose a question which is the equivalent of “If Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickle Peppers.” On other occasions, Jesus will have similar encounters with the scribes and Pharisees. In almost all of these encounters, the religious leaders come to Jesus in an attempt to trip Him up over the Law. If they succeed, they can use their influence and power to denounce Him. But in each case, He turns it around on them and eventually silences them, at which point they resort to lying. At the trial the night before He was crucified, “The chief priests and the whole council were seeking false testimony against Jesus that they might put him to death, but they found none, though many false witnesses came forward.” (Matthew 26:59-60)
Through Christ and His sacrifice on the Cross, we are no longer under the Mosaic Law, but under grace. St. Paul states this clearly in his letter to the Romans: “You are not under law but under grace,” (Romans 6:15), but he quickly adds that sin still exists. How? We are no longer governed by the Mosaic Law, but we are under the law of the Spirit. Paul writes, “We are released from the [Mosaic] law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code.” (Romans 7:6) And what is the heart of this law of the Spirit? Paul tells us, “For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” (Romans 5:14) which includes the love of God because you cannot love your neighbor if you do not first love God.
Our society is quick to impose specific laws on itself and others, whether to maintain order or uphold moral standards. Some individuals ignore these laws altogether and live a lawless life—that’s a different topic. However, most follow these laws, and for the most part, they do so out of fear of punishment, a similar approach to that of the Sadducees and Pharisees. Follow the law to receive a reward. Break the law and face punishment. But the law of the Spirit is beyond any codified system. Why? Because it concerns the heart. It is about love.
We do what God asks of us not because it’s written in a book, but because it’s written on our hearts. We follow His commands not out of fear of being thumped on the head, but because we love Him and want to please Him. We don’t need a law telling us to feed the hungry; we do it because we love our neighbor. We don’t need a law that says, “Don’t drive drunk,” because we should love those who travel with us and those around us enough that we take responsibility for their safety and ours through our actions.
Are you following the law of the Spirit, or are you breaking it? Answer the question: Am I loving my neighbor?
As followers of Jesus, the things we do or don’t do should not be motivated by fear of punishment or reward. Instead, they should be guided by the answer to that one question. Additionally, I would add, err on the side of grace. You can love too little, but you can never love too much.
Let us pray: Breathe into me, Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Move in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. Attract my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy. Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy. Protect me, Holy Spirit, that I may always be holy. Amen.
The story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den is a good one. Daniel’s only crime is that he refused to worship the king as a god and instead remained faithful to the one true God. Those around him are jealous, so they devise the plan to trap him so they can get him out of the way. The plan is simple: have the king issue an edict that, for one month, it’s illegal—punishable by death—to pray to any other god except himself. Daniel doesn’t make a fuss about it, but he disobeys the edict. Scripture tells us that he went to his room, shut the door, and there prayed to the one true God. However, those who want to get rid of him burst in while he is praying and report it to the king, who, because of the edict, has no choice but to throw Daniel into the lions’ den, and he does.
Today, in our Gospel reading, we hear Jesus say, “Blessed are you,” followed by the poor, the hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated. Then, he says, “Woe to you who” are rich, full, laughing, and spoken well of. Those who are blessed and those who are cursed seem to be upside down. “Excuse me, Jesus, but it is the fat and happy that are blessed.” But, no, it is the other way around. Hearing the story of Daniel, we might think,
“Woe to you who are cast to the lions, for you will experience weeping and gnashing of teeth!”
But instead, in the upside-down version, it is
“Blessed are you who are cast to the lions, for you shall be protected by God.”
So, if that is the case, what does it mean to be “blessed?”
It is very common for someone with a good life—nice car, house, white picket fence, fat checking account, etc.—to say, “I am so blessed.” However, it’s quite rare to hear someone who has just been diagnosed with cancer say, “I am so blessed.” Why? Because we most often understand being blessed as those things outside ourselves. But, those visible, tangible things are actually only signs of being blessed. Everyone knows that if you are rich, God has blessed you, and if you are poor, well, you’d best be getting straight with God. Right? Wrong. So, if being blessed isn’t about external signs, then what is it?
Moses and the Israelites wandered in the desert. God finally called them and sent them to the Holy Land, but Moses was afraid of the enemies they would face and other trials. So the Lord said to Moses, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” Moses, wanting to be sure, responded, “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here.” Unless you truly mean it, don’t send us, because without you, we are doomed. “And the Lord said to Moses, ‘This very thing that you have spoken I will do, for you have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name.’”
“My presence will go with you.” There are many external signs of what it means to be blessed by God, but the greatest blessing is the very presence of God. God did not tell Moses that it would be easy. God told Moses that he would be with him and the Israelites. God did not tell Daniel that being in exile, living among and serving a foreign people, and being thrown into the lions’ den would be easy, but Daniel trusted in God’s promise—Daniel trusted that God would be present.
With this understanding, even on the darkest days, you can say, “I am blessed,” because regardless of the circumstances, God is with you. The Lord told Joshua, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) If you need more proof, simply remember His name: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). (Matthew 1:23)
In the first Freshman English class of the semester, the teacher stated, “Let us establish some examples about opposites. Timothy, what is the opposite of joy?”
“Sadness,” said the student.
“Fine.
And the opposite of depression, Rachel?”
“Elation,” she replied with a smile.
“Very good.
And you, Johnny, what is the opposite of woe?”
“I believe that would be ‘giddy up’”
Scripturally speaking, the opposite of “woe” is “blessed,” and we heard those beautiful words, “Blessed are you,” but as beautiful as those words are, today is our celebration of All Saints, so instead of focusing on the words, we focus on those who heard the words and followed the one who spoke them. We focus on the ones who were blessed.
There are approximately 8.1 billion people living today out of the roughly 117 billion people who have ever been born. Of those 117 billion, only about 10,000 are recognized by the church as capital “S” saints: St. Mary, St. Matthew, St. Julian, and others. That’s roughly one Saint for every 11,700,000 people born. So, the question for you today is: what are the chances of you becoming a saint?
For me, I go along with what Brennan Manning said in The Ragamuffin Gospel: “When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.” I prefer Scotch, but you get the point. I consider the odds 1/11,700,000 and think it could happen, but if we’re being honest… honesty is overrated. My one consolation is that I know I have a much better shot at it than you lot.
Perhaps, instead of asking “Who will become a Saint?” we should ask, “Who should strive to become a Saint?” It might seem a bit bold to us, but many of the great saints intentionally described themselves as working to become saints, and some went as far as to predict that they would. St. Joseph Cafasso writes, “I would be the happiest of men if I could become a saint soon and a big one.” Blessed Mary Fortunata Viti says, “I am fortunate to be given this opportunity to become a saint. I want to become a saint,” and St. Margaret of Cortona says, “A time will come when you will call me a saint, and you will go on a pilgrimage to my tomb with the staff and wallet of a pilgrim.” This might seem to negate the whole idea of humility we see in the saints, but instead it points to the fact that they took seriously Christ’s command to “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,” and, in doing so, they are blessed.
Thomas Merton, in his autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain, describes a notable conversation he had with his friend Robert Lax. Apparently, they were arguing as they walked when Robert suddenly stopped and, turning to Merton, asked, “What do you want to be, anyway?” Merton had a few poor answers in his mind but finally said, “I don’t know; I guess what I want is to be a good Catholic.” Robert responded, “What do you mean you want to be a good Catholic? What you should say… what you should say is that you want to be a saint.” “How do you expect me to become a saint?” Robert replied. “By wanting to.” Merton said, “I can’t be a saint.”
Remembering the mood of this conversation, years later, Merton wrote, “My mind darkened with a confusion of realities and unrealities: the knowledge of my own sins, and the false humility which makes men say that they cannot do the things that they must do, cannot reach the level that they must reach: the cowardice that says: ‘I am satisfied to save my soul, to keep out of mortal sin,’ but which means, by those words: ‘I do not want to give up my sins and my attachments.’” In their conversation, his friend Robert continued, “All that is necessary to be a saint is to want to be one. Don’t you believe that God will make you what He created you to be, if you will consent to let Him do it? All you have to do is desire it.” The next day, looking for a way out, Merton told another friend, “[Robert] is going around saying that all a man needs to be a saint is to want to be one.” His friend’s response, “Of course.” Of course! All you have to do to become a saint is to want to be one.
God’s love pulls us out of the places of sin where He finds us. He pulls us out because He wants more for us, and in pulling us out of those places, he calls us into another place—one where we can strive to become that one person in 11,700,000. And before you say, “I can’t,” consider the words of Thomas Merton when he said he couldn’t. You see, when we say we can’t, it’s because we become painfully aware of our sins. We are confronted with aspects of our lives that we’re often unwilling to change in order to be more saint-like. Remember St. Augustine’s words, “Lord, make me chaste—but not yet!”
Become a saint! I can’t. Why? Because of pride, gluttony, and anger? Then learn humility, moderation, and forgiveness. If you did those things, would you then be a saint? Probably not, but you might be a step closer.
Consider a monk who lived on Mount Athos with Elder Paisos. The monk drank excessively, smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, and cursed like a sailor. One day, after the monk’s death, a few pilgrims approached Elder Paisos, who spoke of the monk so affectionately and regarded him as a saint afterward. The pilgrims were distraught; they discussed all the issues the monk had in his life and scolded Elder Paisos for failing to notice those faults. Elder Paisos understood their concerns but then told them that the monk had cut his twenty glasses of wine down to three and reduced his smoking from two packs to just one cigarette a day. Elder Paisos was certain that God saw a fighter, while the world saw a sinner.
Is this an easy task? Of course not—there are many reasons, but one of the main challenges is the need to turn our critical eye toward ourselves. This battle isn’t fought out there but within us, because “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Becoming a saint is difficult because many of the battles are unseen. They occur in a place where our greatest weapon is our faith. At times that faith may not seem like much; however, behind that faith stands the One True God who loves us. St. Paul reminds us, “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Ephesians 4:14-16)
You may never attain sainthood in this life, and you might never receive the title “Saint,” with a capital “S,” but that shouldn’t stop you from consistently and faithfully striving for it. St. John Vianney wrote, “We must never lose sight of the fact that we are either Saints or outcasts, that we must love for Heaven or for Hell; there is no middle path in this.” Don’t be satisfied with merely escaping to heaven “as one escaping through the flames”; instead, put up a good fight and strive to hear those words, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” Strive to become one among 11,700,000. Strive to be blessed.
Let us pray: (This prayer is called The Anima Christi, The Soul of Christ.)
Soul of Christ, sanctify me; Body of Christ, save me; Blood of Christ, inebriate me; Water from the side of Christ, wash me; Passion of Christ, strengthen me; O good Jesus hear me; Within your wounds hide me; separated from you, let me never be; From the evil one protect me; At the hour of my death, call me; And close to you bid me; That with your saints, I may be praising you forever and ever. Amen.
Charles Feeney was a highly successful businessman; in fact, Forbes magazine listed him among the top 400 richest Americans, with a net worth of about $400 million. Still, he was a shabby dresser, wore a $15 watch, flew coach everywhere, and didn’t own a house or a car. That doesn’t sound like your typical multi-millionaire, but it turns out he was worth far less than estimated. Why? Because, over his career, he had been giving it all away.
Over the years, hospitals, schools, service groups, and others received random checks supporting their efforts. For a long time, no one knew where they came from, but eventually the truth surfaced. It was Charles Feeney. Until he was discovered, Charles Feeney had donated over $4 billion anonymously! By 2012, after his secret was revealed, he had given away $6 billion. There’s a biography about him: The Billionaire Who Wasn’t: How Chuck Feeney Made and Gave Away a Fortune Without Anyone Knowing. His actual net worth at that time was only 1% of the $400 million estimated by Forbes. When he died in 2023, he had nearly nothing except a rented two-bedroom apartment and a $15 watch. He had given $8 billion to those in need.
Jesus said, “Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” Maimonides, the 12th-century Jewish rabbinic leader, taught that ”the highest form of giving was anonymous and selfless.” Both of these teachings seem to be lessons that Chuck Feeney sincerely practiced.
And Fr. John, I thought we were celebrating Saints Simon and Jude. Yes, we are, yet these two saints are as anonymous as Charles Feeney’s giving was for all those years. Simon is listed in all three of the synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), and Jude is named in the list of apostles in Luke’s Gospel and in the Book of Acts, but there is no agreement that he is the author of the epistle of Jude in the New Testament.
Legend has it that they preached in the area of Persia and eventually came together in Mesopotamia, where pagan priests martyred them for their faith. Apart from that, there’s nothing more.
The connection I see between Simon and Jude and someone like Charles Feeney is the fact that Simon and Jude, like Feeney, lived very anonymous lives and gave so much to advance the Gospel, yet, aside from being named occasionally on lists, there is silence. They sacrificed everything, even their very lives. Not for fame, but for the glory of God.
St. Josemaría Escrivá writes, “When you have finished your work, do your brother’s, helping him, for Christ’s sake, so tactfully and so naturally that no one—not even he—will realize that you are doing more than what in justice you ought. This, indeed, is virtue befitting a son of God!”
We are called to do the work of God, like Simon and Jude, like Charles Feeney, not for the praise of men, but for the glory of God.
On a Sunday afternoon, an elderly man sat on the back porch of the parsonage, talking to the young priest, and said, “Father, I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve never told this to a soul; it’s extremely difficult to tell you now, but my wife and I have had a fight almost every day for the past 30 years of our marriage.”
The priest was surprised and looked away. He nervously sipped his coffee, unsure of what to say. The young priest asked, “Every day?” “Yes, just about every day.” “Did you fight today before coming to church?” “Yes.” “How did it end?” “She came crawling to me on her hands and knees.” “My goodness, what did she say?” “Come out from under that bed, you coward, and fight like a man!”
Jesus tells a parable about two men who “went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.” The Pharisee was very knowledgeable about God’s teachings. The tax collector, not so much. Plus, the tax collector was generally seen as a plague on society. So, after their prayer, you might think the Pharisee would be the one justified before God, but that’s not the case. When he prays, he believes he knows the mind of God, how things work—he’s not just on the team, he’s the star quarterback, so he is all puffed up. When he prays, he says to God, “You know me and I know you. We’re tight, and thank heaven I’m not like that poor schmuck over there. You and me, we’re good.” He sees himself as a righteous dude because he thinks God views him as a righteous dude.
On the other hand, the tax collector could not even look up toward heaven when he prayed. In the temple, he stayed as far away as possible, keeping his head bowed. He didn’t consider himself worthy, so he prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” And Jesus said, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
What was the key difference between the two? If I had to pick one word, I would say truthfulness — not with the world around them or even with God, but truthfulness with themselves.
In The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky writes, “And, above all—don’t lie… Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others.”
The tax collector, despite feeling miserable about himself and his sins, was at least honest with himself. He had no illusions about being a good man, so instead of trying to justify himself before God, he cast his soul on God’s mercy. He prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
As for the Pharisee, he couldn’t see past his own self-deception to repent for any wrongdoing. He stood before God, having lied to himself so completely that, in Dostoevsky’s words, he could not “distinguish the truth within him, or around him.”
Unfortunately, I believe that more people are like the Pharisee than the tax collector. They deceive themselves into thinking they are justified and righteous before God. Why? Several reasons come to mind.
First, looking inward and facing the truth about ourselves can sometimes be quite painful. For example, if you have a long work history, jumping from one job to another, it’s easy to blame others. “Well, the boss didn’t like me.” “At this job, they didn’t appreciate me.” “There, the employees were always after me.” Each of those statements could be true and reason enough to leave, but if you are honest with yourself and those circumstances, you might ask, “What is the common denominator? What do each of those positions have in common?” The answer: you. That doesn’t mean you were the problem, but it’s a question you need to ask. If, in asking that question honestly and realizing it was you, well, that can be a painful revelation, and we don’t like pain—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—which leads to another reason for self-deception: fear of change.
In those jobs you held, you were honest with yourself, you discovered that you were the one who was the issue, and even though it was a painful revelation, you still must make a choice. Will you remain the same, or will you work to change and improve yourself? Everyone talks about how change is a good thing, and I believe that it is, right up to the point where I’m the one who has to do the changing; then change is very, very bad.
If we choose to overcome the pain and change, we must also face another part of being honest with ourselves—letting others see and understand who we truly are and that we were wrong. Oh, the humanity! Pride is a harmful trait.
In the end, if we overcome these and other fears of being truthful with ourselves and with God, I believe there is one more reason why we will continue to deceive ourselves: we don’t believe we have the capacity or the tools to do anything about it. We say, “I am who I am, and there’s nothing to be done about it in Heaven or on Earth.” O woe is me, but that is just another lie we tell ourselves so we don’t have to do the work.
The Psalms we read on Sundays are usually very pleasant and easily consumed. From the Psalm today, praising the Lord.
“Happy are they who dwell in your house! they will always be praising you.”
However, if you explore the Psalms beyond our Sunday readings, you will notice there is quite a focus on enemies. Take Psalm 63, for example. When we read it, we see verses one through eight. It begins,
“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”
Nice and comforting, but when we only read verses one through eight, we never get to verses nine and ten.
“But those who seek to destroy my life shall go down into the depths of the earth; they shall be given over to the power of the sword; they shall be a portion for jackals.”
Hoorah! But who are these enemies that seek my life? Who is it that will be put down by the sword and fed to jackals?
Some may have a person or group they consider an “enemy” (I would suggest you rethink that), but what if, instead of a person or group, we interpret the enemies in Psalms as the self-deceptions and sins within us? What if we see the enemies as those parts of our lives that we need to rid ourselves of, to fight so that we can conquer, in order that we might change and be transformed into the image of God? What if we say we must defeat the pain and fear of change and put the pride under our feet? Think about these ideas and consider them in the context of a portion of Psalm 118.
For who is God, but the Lord?… He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You have given me the shield of your salvation, and your right hand supported me, and your gentleness made me great. You gave a wide place for my steps under me, and my feet did not slip. I pursued my enemies —I pursued my sin and self-deception— and overtook them, and did not turn back till they were consumed. I am running a few minutes late; my previous meeting is running over. I thrust them through, so that they were not able to rise; they fell under my feet. For you equipped me with strength for the battle; you made those who rise against me —those enemies within— sink under me. You made my enemies turn their backs to me, and those who hated me I destroyed. They cried for help, but there was none to save; they cried to the Lord, but he did not answer them. I beat them fine as dust before the wind; I cast them out like the mire of the streets.
What if, like the Psalmist, when our enemies come against us, we don’t crawl under the bed, but instead say, “Bring it!”—trusting completely in the words of the Lord, “No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed” (Isaiah 54:17a).
If we will, then we know that we can and must stand against the enemies and self-deception, so that when we come before the Lord, we don’t pretend as though nothing is wrong. We don’t stand there like a Pharisee saying, “Oh, look how perfect I am,” but instead, we are in a place where we can humbly pray, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” And in doing so, like the tax collector, be justified, be made right before the Lord. Jesus said, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.
In his first epistle, the Apostle John wrote, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:8-9).” If we will humble ourselves by being truthful with ourselves and with God, then we will be justified in God’s eyes.
Let us pray: God, the author of peace and lover of concord, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom: Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The early patriarchs of the Israelites were Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We know Jacob had twelve sons, with Joseph being his favorite. Scripture states that Jacob “loved Joseph more than any other of his children because he was the son of his old age, and he had made him a long robe with sleeves.” Due to his favoritism toward Joseph, the other eleven brothers grew jealous of him, and things worsened when Joseph was seventeen and started having dreams: “‘Listen to this dream that I dreamed. There we were, binding sheaves in the field. Suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright; then your sheaves gathered around it, and bowed down to my sheaf.’ His brothers said to him, ‘Are you indeed to reign over us? Are you indeed to have dominion over us?’ So they hated him even more because of his dreams and his words.” He had another similar dream involving the sun, moon, and stars. Because of the jealousy that developed from these events, Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery and told their father that a wild animal had killed Joseph.
As we read through Scripture, we see several examples of siblings not getting along. The first is Cain and Abel, but there is also Jacob and Esau, and even the parable of the prodigal son has its share of conflict. What’s surprising is that this tension appears with Jesus and his brothers—whether they were brothers, cousins, or other relatives is a topic for another day. Early on, in the synoptic Gospels and John, we get a clear picture that there was tension.
Mark’s Gospel: Jesus has begun his public ministry, and “When [Jesus’] relations heard about it, they set out to seize him for they said, ‘He is out of his mind.’” John’s Gospel clearly states, “His brothers did not believe in him.” They thought he was crazy, which was true for James, whom we celebrate today. However, following the resurrection, James became a devoted follower. He was, in fact, chosen by the twelve Apostles (including James, the brother of John) to lead the Church in Jerusalem.
Surprisingly, it is very common for family and friends who are not believers to question your sanity or become angry when you start following the will of God. Still, for the believer, it should not be surprising, because Jesus tells us, “Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be hated by all because of my name. But the one who endures to the end will be saved.”
The reasons why such things happen are numerous: jealousy, as in the case of Joseph; pride, as in the case of Jesus’ family (they thought he was crazy and making them look bad); or anger, because you’re no longer following the crowd. But I believe the most important reason is fear. Fear because they are now more personally confronted with their own lives. Your life and obedience to God have become a testimony to them and convicts them of the sin in their own lives, leaving them with a choice of obedience.
James’ initial reaction to his brother Jesus was one of anger; however, Jesus’ life and obedience to the will of the Father convicted James and led to a conversion. In the face of anger, fear, and jealousy because of your faith, stand tall and do not be afraid. God can even use others’ adverse reactions to accomplish His will in their lives.
The Western Wall, also known as the Wailing Wall, is a part of the wall that surrounded the Temple in Jerusalem. It is the holiest site in Judaism, and this section of the wall is especially significant because it was closest to the Temple itself.
A young woman journalist assigned to the Jerusalem bureau has an apartment overlooking the Wailing Wall. At certain times every day, when she looks out her window, she sees an old bearded Jewish man praying solemnly, his lips moving and his eyes closed. Certainly, he would be a good interview subject, so the journalist walks down to the Wall and introduces herself to the old man after his prayers.
She asks, “You come every day to the Wall; how long have you been doing this, and what are you praying for?”
The old man replies, “I have come here to pray every day for 25 years. In the morning, I pray for my family and the brotherhood of man. I go home, have lunch, and in the afternoon, I come back and pray for the broader concerns of the world.”
The journalist is moved to silence, so humbled is she by the sincerity of this old man. Then she remembers her training and asks her second question.
“So,” she asks, “how does it feel to come here every day for 25 years and pray for these wonderful things? What’s it like?”
The old man shrugs his shoulders and replies, “Like talking to a wall.”
Our Gospel today tells about the unjust judge, who is described as a man with no concern except for himself. He cares nothing for God or the people. Also, in the parable, there is the widow, who has been wronged in some way and has come to the judge seeking justice. The judge refuses to rule on the case, but this does not stop the widow from repeatedly coming and pleading her case. Eventually, the judge says to himself, “If I don’t do what this widow is asking, she’s going to drive me up the wall with all her nagging.” So, he is forced to make a ruling because of the constant pressure she was applying.
Through the parable, Jesus is saying, “If this widow could change the mind of the unjust judge simply by coming to him repeatedly, how much more will our Father in Heaven, who loves us, hear the prayers of His people? Jesus says, “Will He delay long in helping them? I tell you, He will quickly grant justice to them.”
As I studied this lesson, I kept returning to that sentence: “God will quickly grant justice and answer our prayers.” Does He? I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this, but have you ever prayed and not received an answer, or what you were seeking? I’m not talking about praying to win the lottery or get a date with Scarlett Johansson, nothing like that. I’m talking about praying for something that was truly on your heart—someone was sick, a relationship was faltering, a job was needed, or becoming unbearable? You earnestly prayed but were met with only silence. Night after night, day after day, you wrestle with God, but end up with no results. Everybody, nod your head.
Jesus makes some interesting statements about prayer. “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” “Truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven.” “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” I can possibly understand why I wouldn’t get the date with Scarlett, but what about a mother with a sick child? What about a mother who gave birth to a beautiful little girl only to discover that the child was born with cancer? Cancer running all through the child’s body. And what if that mother prayed with all her heart for that child to be healed, but before the little girl reached her first birthday, she died? Jesus said, “Ask for anything and I will do it,” so why didn’t he heal the little girl? What are we to conclude? Did Jesus not mean what he said? Let’s take a closer look at this mom and her daughter.
Did I mention that the mom got pregnant outside of marriage? The child was “conceived in sin,” so shouldn’t we really expect the child to be sick? Is there any reason why God should listen to the mom’s prayers? After all, she is a sinner. There’s one possible reason the baby wasn’t healed.
You know, Jesus says, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” So, maybe the mother just didn’t have enough faith, and that’s why the baby died.
Possibly the mom didn’t add “in Jesus’ name” at the end of her prayers, so of course, we can’t expect God to answer that prayer.
Or did you notice that the baby’s skin was much darker than her mother’s, a clear sign that the father was of a different race? Well, we all know that can only end in sickness.
Now, you might be looking at me with disgust and thinking that no one would ever say such things and that I’m a monster for even considering them. But what if I told you that these are comments I’ve actually heard in very similar situations? I believe they are all disgusting, completely erroneous, unfounded, and unbiblical. So, if I’m right and these explanations to the question are wrong, then why does it seem like God does not answer prayers the way He says He will?
I’m not smart enough to come up with an answer, so I did my research to find someone who could answer the question. I can either double the length of this sermon and dive into the research with you or just share my findings. I’ll go with sharing my findings. Why does it seem that God doesn’t answer prayers as He promises? Answer: I don’t know, and I don’t think anyone else does. But I will tell you what I do know.
I know that it happened to King David when he prayed for his son’s life—the child died. (2 Samuel 12:15-19) I know it happened to St. Paul regarding the “thorn” in his flesh—“‘Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” (2 Corinthians 12:8-9) Paul prayed for relief, and the Lord essentially told him, “Deal with it. The suffering is good for you.” I also know it happened to God’s own Son. On the night before he was crucified, Jesus prayed, “My Father, if it is possible may this cup be taken from me.” We know the result.
In each of these situations, it appears as though evil wins, but we know better. While preaching on Holy Saturday, the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, Pope Francis said, “The prayer that Jesus addresses to the Father in Gethsemane also seems to go unheard. “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” It seems that the Father does not listen to Him. The Son must drink fully from the chalice of the Passion. But Holy Saturday is not the final chapter because, on the third day, Sunday, is the Resurrection. Evil is lord of the penultimate day. Remember this well. Evil is never the lord of the last day.”
“Remember this well. Evil is never the lord of the last day.” In our unanswered prayers, we believe evil has won, but it is not the last day. On the last day, the Lord our “God will wipe away every tear from [our] eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4) “Behold,” the Lord says, “I am making all things new.” (Revelation 21:5)
When you pray, it may sometimes feel like you’re talking to a wall, and you might want to scream at God. Be faithful. Keep praying. Do not lose heart. When you pray, the thorn in your side might stay, or you might have to drink fully from the chalice set before you. Be faithful. Keep praying. Do not lose heart. When you pray, remember that “Evil is never lord of the last day.” Be faithful. Keep praying. Do not lose heart. God will grant justice to those who call on Him.
Let us pray: Lord, we pray for the grace and the strength to remain faithful to Your teachings and to the sacramental life of the Church. Help us to persevere in the commitments and promises we have made to You and to one another, and help us to persevere in prayer and confidence in You so that we may live our lives in accord with Your will. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
Candle in a Cave 