Fr. Rick Spicer

Years ago, I saw a fascinating exhibit at the Pacific Science Center in Seattle that featured many relics from the Titanic, even a section of its hull. She was the most majestic ship of her day. 882 feet long, the HMS Titanic weighed 46,328 tons. With a crew of 400 and a hotel staff of 518, the world’s largest ship could carry 2,433 passengers.

On the night of April 14, 1912, the “unthinkable” happened to this “unsinkable” ship. Near midnight, the great Titanic hit an iceberg that ripped open five watertight compartments. Two and one half hours later, she sank, claiming 1513 lives. They died because the crew had ignored warnings that the ship was speeding into an ice field, the radio operator of a nearby ship was off duty and there were not enough lifeboats on board. Would the unthinkable have happened had the White Star Line realized that no ship was unsinkable?

With the confidence of the Titanic, we breeze through life confident that we will reach the port of heaven. After all, we are Christians and Jesus has assured us that our faith is the way to salvation. Follow the rules and you have it made. Observe the commandments, attend Mass each weekend, celebrate the sacraments, support the parish, and you will surely experience eternal life.

This is what the Pharisee believed, boasting in the temple that all his deeds ought to be pleasing to God. He was outstanding in his observance of the law. For example, Jews were only required to fast once a year on the feast of Yom Kippur, but he fasted twice a week. He set himself apart from others with his holier than thou attitude, “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity, greedy, dishonest, adulterous, or even like this tax collector.” His pride was his undoing. Compared to the penitent tax collector, his attitude is arrogant to say the least.

He may have been highly regarded by others in public, but as Jesus makes clear in this parable, being self-righteous does not make one righteous in the sight of God.

Jesus cautions his listeners that the unthinkable could happen to them if they did not heed his warnings to change their attitude. So far as the self-righteous Pharisee was concerned, he was doing all the right things, unlike everyone else. So, he voiced no regrets. There was no sense of contrition in his prayer, or should I say, his speech. The tax collector, on the other hand, was quite remorseful. Too embarrassed to look up, he asked for the one thing that God wants to give us: mercy. He, not the Pharisee, went home justified. Undoubtedly, the outcome of this parable startled his listeners.

Unlike the Pharisee, the tax collector went home a changed man. He left the temple with a clean conscience, thus in good standing with God. The Pharisee on the other hand came to the temple an arrogant snob and he left for home still an arrogant snob.

Are we hearing Jesus’ warning loud and clear? However good we deem ourselves to be, do we see ourselves as sinners in need of repentance? The tax collector did. Unlike the Pharisee, he faced the truth about himself. Approaching prayer with humility, he knows that he can do nothing apart from God and if he was to change, he would need God’s help, so he confesses, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.” Humbling himself meant facing up to the truth.

A highly regarded biblical scholar, Fr. Raymond Brown, once said that if no change happens as a result of prayer, then we haven’t really prayed. Can you see how one prayed and the other didn’t? The manner in which we pray, the words we speak, the posture we assume, and our willingness to listen reveals how readily we relate to God.

This well-known parable challenges us to realize how vital prayer is if we really want to be with God. No matter how “holy” we become, even if we do every good thing and avoid every bad thing, we cannot save ourselves. Only God can for salvation is God’s gift to us.

Love and repentance, not self-righteousness, is what matters in nurturing our relationship with God. They increase our love of God, others and self, while self-righteousness blinds us to our sinfulness. Quite simply, we cannot be self-righteous and faithful at the same time.

If you are at a loss for what to say when you pray, consider the tax collector’s prayer. His prayer became the basis for what is known as the “Jesus prayer,” which I pray daily. “Lord Jesus, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Breathe in as you say his name, and breathe out as you express your plea. That prayer along with a good examination of conscience is a fitting way to end each day.

The tax collector was justified because he discovered, like Paul, that the race we call life can’t be finished without God’s help. Paul proclaims that God was there to give him strength in his trials and would ultimately bring him safely home to heaven. The same is true for us but first we must be willing to let God change us. The good news of this parable is that every one of us can go home justified. All we need to do is take an honest look at ourselves, repent of our sin and pride, then rely on God’s wisdom and mercy to change us for the better. With God’s help and grace, we too can fight the good fight and not allow the unthinkable to happen to us.

The message today is simple enough: we must persevere in our prayer; otherwise, our faith will likely wane. In the battle against Amalek, so long as Moses kept his arms up in prayer, Joshua and his men were winning, but when Moses let up in prayer, Amalek got the upper hand. What kept Moses going was the help of Aaron and Hur and in the end, Israel prevailed. This wasn’t magic. They knew their help was from the Lord who made heaven and earth.

Paul cautions his listeners to remain faithful to what they have learned and believed, so how are we to do that? Well, that doesn’t happen from watching sports, working overtime, surfing the Internet, or being a coach potato. Remaining faithful comes from praying and Paul provides an excellent suggestion for anyone who finds prayer difficult: reflect on the sacred scriptures, for the Bible provides us with God’s tools for becoming and remaining an upright and moral person.

Often we find ourselves struggling with issues that demand a choice. What values do we use for making moral choices in our lives? When making a choice, are we seeking to be spiritually correct or politically correct?

Being spiritually correct demands that we listen to God through the different ways God communicates with us. One, as I just mentioned, is sacred scripture, which is capable of giving us wisdom for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ. Another would be the teachings of the Church handed on to us by her bishops and its catechism.

I presume you belong to the Church because you believe in what the Church stands for. Historically, we believe Jesus founded this Church and for 2000 years it has endeavored to keep his message of salvation visible for all to see. Granted, like any human institution, the Church has had its ups and downs and its share of good leaders and bad. But through the power of prayer and the tireless energy of countless missionaries and evangelists, the Church has stood the test of time, proclaiming the Good News and upholding the moral values conveyed to us in the Sacred Scriptures.

Being politically correct sometimes means hiding one’s convictions lest you offend others. Consequently the values we hold publicly as a society do not always reflect what we believe privately. Seeking to be politically correct, the Supreme Court has ruled that public prayer is not allowed in our schools yet prayer is what has drawn us together as a nation, especially in challenging times.

On our currency, we proclaim our country’s motto, “In God we trust.” We adopted this motto because our nation was founded on Christian principles. Today, do we trust that God will care for us or is our confidence lacking? Thrusting in God implies that we believe what help we need comes from the Lord.

But if the Lord is to help us, we must do our share as well. Like Moses and the widow in the Gospel, we must persist in prayer. We must pray without growing weary, as though our lives depend on it for indeed our eternal lives do.

St. John Henry Newman, our newest saint, noted, “Going often to prayer is an act of faith…Trying to be attentive in your prayers is an act of faith…These are acts of faith, because they are acts that you would accomplish if you saw and understood that God is present, though your eyes and ears neither see nor hear him.”

In this parable, Jesus has good reason for using a widow as the star. In biblical times, widows were quite powerless. To support themselves, they usually had to beg. Like a widow, how often do we feel powerless or intimidated before God? Or overwhelmed? Or inclined to think that God doesn’t care?

The fact is God very much cares about you. Even though God knows us intimately, we must continually articulate our needs along with gratitude. Jesus assures us that justice will be done for those who call upon God day and night. That demands persistence on our part, something we aren’t likely to do if we are inclined to be politically correct, forgetting that this nation owes its origins and success to the many immigrants who came yearning to be spiritually correct.

I suspect most of us feel deep down that we ought to do more in our prayer life so we promise to do more. Yet, with so much else demanding our attention, finding time to pray can be challenging. Consequently, we could be denying ourselves the real experience of intimately getting to know Jesus and experience his love. Heed Paul’s advice and find quiet time daily to read the Bible and ponder its message. Meditate on a sentence that catches your eye.

 

In the cemetery of St. John’s Abbey in Minnesota there stands a simple solid massive majestic wooden cross. What is so unusual about this cross is that two granite pillars hold up its arms. They are like Aaron and Hur whom we met in the first reading holding up Moses’ arms as he prayed. As one monk noted, the visual power of this cross is a reminder that we Christians need to uphold each other in faith. Or else, we might despair or lose heart.

To me, the pillars of this cemetery cross also suggest that through prayer and the sacraments, God sustains us through our trials and tribulations, giving us the peace of mind that being politically correct could never provide.

While in town to pick up some supplies, a farmer stopped at a local café to have a bite to eat. He sat down near a group of rowdy young men who were acting up, shouting at the cook and heckling the waitress. When his meal was set before him, the farmer bowed his head in prayer. One of the smart alecks then shouted loudly enough to be heard by everyone else, “Hey pop, does everyone do that where you come from?” Calmly, the farmer turned to the lad and in an equally loud voice, replied, “No son, the pigs don’t.”

Nor did nine certain lepers. Naaman, a Syrian general afflicted with leprosy, and the Samaritan, the only one of the ten lepers cured by Jesus to return and give thanks for being healed, are both obviously very grateful for the miracle.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran minister who died in a Nazi Concentration camp, once observed, “In ordinary life we hardly recognize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich. It is very easy to overestimate the importance of our own achievements in comparison to what we owe others.”

The indifference of the nine lepers isn’t so unusual. How often have we done the same thing? As this gospel story suggests, not all of us really go out of our way to express our gratitude, especially to God for all that we have been given.

Quite likely, the nine ungrateful lepers did appreciate what Jesus did for them. Why they didn’t return to offer him thanks is anyone’s guess, but what was evident to Jesus was the cure did not touch their hearts. The Samaritan, on the other hand, had a conversion experience. Once he realized that he had been healed, he returned, glorifying God in a loud voice. He humbled himself before Jesus, thanking him for making him whole again.

In ancient times, leprosy was a disease with a stigma. If you had leprosy or another dire skin disease, you were alienated from your community and you had to warn others, “Unclean, unclean!” What happened to lepers happens to us when we commit a grave sin. When we sin, our conscience leaves us feeling unclean before God. Like the leper, a sinner, weak and burdened with guilt, may feel hopeless before God for only God can deliver lepers and sinners from their plight.

When we alienate ourselves from God by committing a grave sin, we aren’t allowed to fully participate in the liturgy. When we can’t receive communion, we feel cut off from God and like the lepers, we cry out, “Jesus! Have pity on us!”

And when we do, Jesus would tell us, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” In biblical times, by certifying that a leper had been cured, priests gave the now healed leper permission to return home to the community. Likewise, going to a priest and receiving absolution for our grave sins through the sacrament of reconciliation restores us to full membership in the Church. Now forgiven, we are again in full communion with the body of Christ. Unfortunately, pride gets in the way for some of us sinners, just as it did for Naaman, from seeing the wisdom of what God offers in this sacrament.

Our primary manner of worship has always been the Mass, known also as the Eucharist, which in Greek means thanksgiving. The Mass is our ideal chance to thank God for all that we have been given: life, love, forgiveness, compassion, and mercy, along with the material goods that keep us alive.

Like the nine lepers who didn’t voice their gratitude for being healed, many of the baptized do not appear to be so grateful even though God has generously blessed them. Statistics reveal that the largest religion in our country is Catholic and the second largest are fallen away Catholics.

We tend to take God for granted, including God’s gift of salvation. Despite the caution voiced by Paul in his letter to Timothy that God will deny us if we deny him, we don’t really think that our sinfulness could cause us to forfeit his gift of eternal life. Instead, we presume that God “will understand.”

When God does come to mind, we are likely to be asking a favor or demanding something. Give us this or that; heal someone who is ill, bring us peace, save this marriage, perform a miracle. Sometimes our prayers are made with little expectation of success but when our pleas are heard, is our faith impacted or like the nine lepers, do we remain unchanged on the inside?

I recall that in the days following 9/11, churches across our nation were filled with many seeking solace, comfort and assurances. In turn, we were told, “Stand up and go, your faith has saved you.” Following his words of absolution, a priest says in effect those same words. Faith is what always pulls us through our most difficult times but faith is not a gift to be taken for granted. Faith demands a right relationship with God. Like any plant, faith must be cared for. We nurture our faith best through reconciliation, prayer, and the Eucharist.

 In his unconditional love, Jesus doesn’t need our gratitude any more than he needed the spoken gratitude of the nine lepers, but he knew they needed to be grateful, and so must we if our faith is to remain vibrant. So long as we remain grateful, we will never deny God nor take for granted what God has given us, especially his gift of salvation.

We usually give little thought to the value of water, but when it’s scarce, we treasure every drop. After all, without water, we cannot live. Likewise, Habakkuk suggests that without faith we cannot live either. Like water, faith is colorless, tasteless, and odorless, but still quite refreshing.

“Increase our faith,” the apostles pleaded. Jesus responded with a lesson that suggests what matters in life is not the quantity but the quality of one’s faith. Simply put, he told them that faith is animated by our way of living; a point one student endeavored to explain to his skeptical teacher.

Being an atheist, his philosophy professor began class by asking him, “You’re a Christian, aren’t you, son?” “Yes sir,” the student said. “So you believe in God?” “Absolutely,” the student replied.

“Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?” “No, sir, I’m afraid I haven’t.” “Yet you still believe in him?” “Yes, sir,” the student replied. “Well, according to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn’t exist. What do you say to that, son?” “Nothing,” he answered. “I only have my faith.” “Ah, faith,” the Professor repeated. “And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.” 

The student stood quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own. “Professor, is there such thing as heat?” “Yes,” the Professor replied. “And is there such a thing as cold?” “Yes, son, there’s cold too.”

“No sir, there isn’t. You can have lots of heat, even super-heat, mega-heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don’t have anything called ‘cold’. We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees.

“Absolute zero is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. We can measure heat in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it. 

“What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?” “Yes,” the Professor replied. “What is night if it isn’t darkness?”  “You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of light. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light you have darkness, but in reality, darkness isn’t. Otherwise, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you?”

“So what point are you making, young man?” “My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.”

The Professor’s face could not hide his surprise this time. “Flawed? Can you explain how?” “Sir, you are working on the premise of duality,” the student explained. “You view the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can’t even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.”

“Now tell me, Professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?” “If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do.” “Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?” The Professor shook his head. “Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher? Let me give you an example of what I mean.” 

The student looked around the room. “Has anyone in the class ever seen the Professor’s brain?” The class broke out into laughter. “Is there anyone here who has ever heard or felt the Professor’s brain? No one appears to have done so. So, with all due respect, sir, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, so if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures?”

Now the room is silent. The Professor just stared at the student. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the old man answered, “I guess you’ll have to take them on faith.”

“Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,” the student continued. “Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?” The Professor responded, “Of course, there is. We see it everyday. It is in the daily example of man’s inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.” 

The student replied, “Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God’s love present in his heart. It’s like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.”

Sitting down, perhaps the professor finally got the picture that faith, like any glass of refreshing water and life itself, is a priceless gift from God to be valued, appreciated and lived from the womb to the tomb. A little faith can go a long way, just as a tiny seed will spring up into a great tree.

This well-known parable of the rich man and Lazarus brings Several questions to mind. First, why is the rich man in hell, this place of “torment?” Jesus didn’t say that the man acquired his wealth dishonestly. We aren’t told that he is to blame for Lazarus’ predicament or that Lazarus begged from him and was refused. We are not told if the rich man committed any evil deeds. All we know is that he feasted well and dressed in fine clothing, as any rich person likely would, so why then, did he go to hell?

The reason we have trouble pinpointing why this man is in hell may have a lot to do with how we think of sin. We often think that we sin only through thoughts, words, and deeds, but lets not forget that another way we sin is by omission. During the Confiteor, which we said moments ago, we admitted, “I have greatly sinned, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do.” Too often, we overlook the sin of omission in our lives yet this parable reminds us that this sin can send a person to hell. This happened to the rich man.

The poor man, known as Lazarus, was lying at his door, and rich man couldn’t care less. “Whatever happens to him is none of my concern,” he most likely said to himself. In the meantime, dogs came and went, licking the poor man’s sores. When he died, the angels carried him to heaven.

The rich man had done nothing wrong to Lazarus but he did fail to do a good deed. He failed to reach out and share any of his blessings with the poor man. The rich man committed a sin of omission, and for that he went to hell.

This raises the second question: why did Lazarus go to heaven? So far as we know, he never performed a single good deed. What qualified him for heaven? The clue lies in his name. In biblical stories of this nature, names are significant because they often convey the basic character of the person. In fact, this is the only parable of Jesus where a character in the story has a name, so the name must be significant for understanding why Lazarus went to heaven.

The name, Lazarus, is the Greek form of a Hebrew name, Eliezer, which means, “God is my help.” There is the clue. Lazarus is a poor person who believes and trusts in God. So he found himself nestled in Abraham’s bosom in paradise because of his faith and trust in God, not because he was materially poor. Keep in mind that poverty can easily make a person bitter toward God, angry and even criminal.

According to this parable, one that undoubtedly startled Jesus’ audience, the gospel measurement for heaven or hell is determined not by one’s wealth but in seeing. Jesus warns that spiritual blindness and spiritual indifference condemns people. That lesson shouldn’t surprise you. At the end of Matthew’s gospel, we are told, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” In other words, when did we see you and yet not see you?  And Jesus told them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it for one of these, you did not do it for me. And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

The rich man saw Lazarus hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, and sick but he chose not to see him. He was spiritually blind. In not seeing, he did not act and in not acting, he omitted the compassion and sharing he should have given Lazarus. Thus, having no concern for anyone but himself, the rich man is condemned to hell for his sin of omission.

Only when it was too late, did the rich man understand the message God had been trying to send him through Moses and the prophets. What about us? When we listen to Jesus and the prophets, do we really get the message? I doubt anyone here wants to spend eternity in hell but that could be our fate if we ignore the advice Jesus is giving us here.

A Christ-like sensitivity to those in need enables us to see their need and respond accordingly. This parable confronts us not because we are wickedly rich and insensitive…hardly that…but because we so often fail to act in a compassionate manner. This parable challenges us to open our eyes and see, then to act upon what we see.

What would be your response if a total stranger walked up to you and asked if you had any spare change? Lacking sensitivity, we could easily say no without much thought. When you see panhandlers on street corners, what is your inclination? Lacking sensitivity, we could quickly judge that our spare change would be wasted on booze or drugs.

The letter to Timothy urges us to pursue a life of virtue. Now that may sound quaint and old fashioned to you yet what is more important if we desire to be in heaven someday than striving to be virtuous in this lifetime?

This parable wasn’t merely a warning about hell. Here Jesus is challenging our sensibilities. How might we overcome our avarice and become more caring to those less fortunate? In the narthex, we have bins to collect donations to provide Good Cheer, our local food bank, with provisions they can’t afford to buy. You may not see those who are less fortunate than you are, but you are being mindful of their needs when you donate a personal hygiene product, a paper product, or a protein product each weekend when you come to Mass. If heaven is our quest, we can’t afford to stand by idly enjoying our own riches and freedom if Lazarus is at our door.