Fr. Rick Spicer

For his birthday, a young priest I knew while in the seminary was given a bronze plaque that read, “Humility isn’t one of my faults, but if I had one, that would be it.” Clearly someone on the parish staff was hinting loudly that he needed to heed the advice from Sirach, “My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.” A humble attitude he didn’t have and soon afterwards, he left the priesthood. Rather than seeing humility as a fault, the readings convey the urgent message to us that this is the key for encountering God.

In the gospel, Jesus wasn’t talking about table manners or snobbery when he used parables to advise the Pharisees. Rather, he was warning his audience that self-exaltation, the opposite of humility, excludes one from the eternal banquet. The big danger of self-exaltation is the likelihood to deny one’s sins.

Remember, the Pharisees viewed themselves as diligent followers of the law, down to the tiniest details. They fully expected, as the holiest people in Israel, to be seated in places of honor at the Lord’s banquet. But Jesus uses the occasion to caution them as he cautions us that our salvation does not depend on our actions alone but also on our motives. He tells them that their social status in the eyes of others was not as important as their good standing in the eyes of God.

Twenty seven years ago, I spent the summer as a chaplain at the Fircrest School in Shoreline, a home then for 500 severely disabled people of all ages. God bless them, they were great teachers. Before I began working there, I struggled with the issue of self esteem. I would affirm myself by the things I could do. Those things I could do well, I tried to do even better but those things I couldn’t do well, I was reluctant to try at all for fear that I would fail. If the results did not meet my expectations, I didn’t feel good about myself.

I was allowing success or failure to shape my self worth rather than the conviction that God loves me. The children at Fircrest helped me to realize that God never intended me to do all things well. They accepted their limitations and prompted me to do the same, recognizing and overcoming my inner fears.

They reminded me of the humanity of Jesus. Too often we think of Jesus as the son of God, forgetting about Jesus, the man from Nazareth, who like you and me, could also sweat, hunger, thirst, ache and complain when something didn’t go right. Jesus viewed humility, not as a weakness or a fault, but as strength. No virtue describes him better.

He did not hide behind false pretenses or rest on his laurels. Nor did Jesus attempt to be weaker than he actually was for he knew that too much humility was simply another form of pride.  Rather, he recognized his talents and used them, working hard at whatever he did. He challenged his listeners to understand themselves and not dwell on their shortcomings. If we see no good in ourselves, we fail to see God’s creative love for us, becoming victims of false pride.

One resident of Fircrest, whom I will never forget, was a blind, crippled teenager, named Johnny. He made me realize how much we have to offer one another. Johnny was so ugly that he reminded me of the elephant man. I was hesitant to minister to him until my supervisor suggested that I let Johnny minister to me instead. Putting aside my fears, I allowed him to literally move his fingers all over my face, pulling at my hearing aids. As he did so, I sensed the presence of God. In those few weeks, Johnny enabled me to be honest with my feelings and accepting of my limitations.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta, born a century ago in Albania, was a modern day example of one who accepted her limitations and humbly reached out to the sick and dying in the streets of Calcutta. She allowed God to work through her as she tended to their needs, setting an example for the rest of us. Humility was the cornerstone of her spirituality. Here in our parish, we can find many examples of friends who very much involve God in their lives while serving and respecting others.

That was what Jesus was challenging the Pharisees to do, calling on them to invite the crippled, the poor, and the blind into their lives. We too are being called to lay aside our fears and prejudices and to accepting of them as God is of us. Ironically, I first preached on these readings on the 20th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s most famous speech in which he prayed, “I have a dream that one day my children will be judged, not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” Are we judging others today by the content of their character? Or like the Pharisees, are we judging them by whatever physical or mental limitations they have, or their social status, or their religious beliefs, or their ethnic origins?

Jesus warns us not to seek that which gives us a false sense of pride, sharing a banquet only with those who can bolster our false selves. A mindset of “what’s in it for me?”  leaves us blind to God’s love but if we put ourselves in touch with our true selves, then we can see that all we have is God’s love to us.

True humility is what allows us to be open to the presence of God. When we accept ourselves, we can begin to accept others and to forgive them. Only then can we realize that God has always been willing to forgive us and accept us for who we are. Granted, humility is hard, requiring honesty, effort, and courage, but it brings about the greatest reward, an invitation to the eternal banquet. Here and now, humility heals souls and relationships, but more importantly, this “fault” makes possible an intimate relationship with God.

A tourist came too close to the edge of the Grand Canyon, lost his footing and plunged over the side, clawing for anything to save his life. Somehow, he managed to grab hold of a small bush. Filled with terror, he yelled, “Is there anyone up there? Can anyone help me?” He heard a reassuring voice say, “I’m here. I, the Lord, your God.”

The man said, “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t hold on much longer.” The Lord said, “Before I help you, I want to know if you believe in me.” The man replied, “Of course, I believe in you. I go to Mass every Sunday, I read the Bible, I pray everyday, and I even put a few dollars in the collection basket.”

The Lord asked again, “But do you really believe in me?” Meanwhile, the man was getting desperate. “Lord, you can’t believe how much I believe in you!”  “Good,” God replied, “Now let go of the branch.”  The man stammered, “But, Lord!”

And the voice of the Lord came back, “If you believe in me, let go of the branch.” The man was silent for a moment and then yelled, “Is there anyone else up there?”

I pray that you will never find yourself in such a situation but these readings invite us to ponder the issue of faith, especially in difficult times. Faith is fundamental to being fully human but do we really know what the word means? I imagine we would have a diverse and divergent collection of definitions if everyone present jotted down their personal meanings of faith.

Consider the definition given in Hebrews, clear and to the point, “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” Would you have defined faith in this way? The letter then illustrates its point with the example of Abraham and Sarah, who dared to leave behind the familiar, with faith in God, to journey into the unknown.

In the passage from Wisdom, we witness the faith of the Israelites on the first night of their exodus from Egypt.  They trusted that the God of Abraham would free them from a life of slavery.  Under the cover of night, they did what needed to be done to be ready, placing their faith in the covenant between God and their ancestor, Abraham, in which God promised that Abraham’s descendants would be as numerous as the stars.

Both passages illustrated the courage to take the leap, to let go of fear, and to trust God to be with them as they ventured into the unknown. Our word, “trust,” perhaps best captures the spirit of faith being expressed in this passage from Hebrews. They trusted in the face of obstacles and contradictions that God would deliver them to the land where Abraham and Sarah died.

Faith is what draws us together to worship God at Mass. We admire the faith we witness in Abraham, Sarah, Peter and the other disciples. We look forward to sitting down at the Eucharistic banquet but as the gospel implies, anything could happen between now and then. What will our faith be like on that day?

Today’s liturgy speaks loudly to us at a time in our society when we have many reasons to be afraid. The economy is not recovering as fast as many had hoped.  Nearly ten percent of our labor force is unemployed or underemployed. The lingering war in the Middle East has cost us dearly in lives lost or maimed. Waking up to the news of a terminal or life altering illness is a fate that happens daily. These concerns or others could easily tax our faith in God. What fears we have could be based on awareness that we are not all that we might be or that we have not always been faithful to others or to God.

Instead of allowing fear to control our lives though, Jesus urges us to be prepared. But, he isn’t speaking only of that moment in the future when death will greet us. We should always be ready to meet God, not just in our dying moment, but in the present moment as well, especially moments when we are fearful.

The imagery Jesus uses of servants awaiting their master’s return reminds me of students in the classroom waiting for the teacher to show up. Some prepare for the upcoming lesson, while others will do whatever suits their fancy at the moment, perhaps presuming the teacher will not show up. They pass up any number of learning opportunities. So do we when we act as though God is not on hand to teach us a lesson through the people or events that enter our lives daily.  Pearl Bailey quipped, “People see God every day. They just don’t recognize him.”

Do you? Faith has the potential to shape our lives if we allow ourselves to notice that God is fully present in the people and events that surround us. Granted, not all the choices we make affect our relationship with God, but every time we make a moral choice without considering what God expects of us, we diminish our relationship with God. In his book, Markings,  Dag Hammarksjold observed, “we die on the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.”

And how are our lives to be illumined? Through daily prayer, which many people consider to be a waste of time but that is the paradox of prayer. Just as a friendship cannot grow unless time is invested, our relationship with God cannot thrive unless we invest time in prayer, which gives God the chance to advise us how best to handle the issues of our daily lives, whatever they are. Prayer allows us to let go of the past, cease worrying about the future, and live in the present moment.

The life we want to save is our eternal life but that can’t be done without faith in the God who unconditionally loves us. May our faith be stronger yet on the day we meet God face to face.

The readings today could be summed up in one sentence,

“Avoid greed if you really want to live.” Jesus knows that we all need a certain amount of money and goods to sustain life, so he isn’t rebuking the rich man for what he owns, but he faults him for being greedy. This warning is not just for anyone who is considered wealthy, for no matter what we have, anyone of us could be guilty of greed.

Listed as one of the seven capital sins, greed is dangerous because it blinds us to God’s love. Greed has been considered the most-committed, least confessed sin in our country.

Few literary characters epitomize greed better than Ebeneezer Scrooge, the tight-fisted merchant in Charles Dickens’ beloved story, The Christmas Carol. All he cared about was making a profit. If anyone wished him, “Merry Christmas,” he would reply, “Bah, humbug!” To increase his profits, he even worked late on Christmas Eve and expected his nephew, Bob Cratchit, to do the same. That night, he encountered the ghost of Christmas past who reminded him of what he had once been but that wasn’t enough to change him. However, when the ghost of Christmas future shows him his grave, Scrooge then realizes that there is more to living than living for oneself.

In this parable, Jesus focuses on the rich man’s attitude, which is a cartoon of selfishness. I doubt that there is another parable in the gospels with so many personal pronouns: I, my and myself. When asked what part of speech those words were, one student quipped, “aggressive pronouns.” Like Scrooge, this rich man was aggressively self-centered. He couldn’t see beyond his own wants.

Greed is a dangerous attitude that can infect anyone of us, rich and poor alike, for greed is born out of the fear of never having enough. As Jesus points out, no amount of possessions can make our lives secure in the long run. He tells his listeners to beware of wanting more, just for the sake of having more. But isn’t that what the American dream is all about?

We swim in a culture of excess where the pursuit of having more is admired. We applaud ambition, yet as many families discover painfully along the way, this trait can threaten our well being. When parents give up the precious quality time they can spend with their children for the sake of their careers and income, they discover too late that relationships can never be taken for granted.

The readings open with the line, “Vanity of vanities!” Qoheleth wasn’t speaking of conceit but of illusion. Las, many of us have been fooled into believing that fulfilling the American dream is more important than following the wisdom of the gospel.

Few of us own granaries or barns. Still, we are duped into believing that more is better, newer is better, bigger is better, more than what we already have is better but for how long? When we die, what difference will it make when we stand in the presence of God what our worldly goods amount to? After all, as King Tut discovered, we really can’t take it with us.

What matters in the end as Jesus points out is being rich in the sight of God, but how is that to be achieved? Although easier said than done for many people, the answer lies is choosing to live out of love instead of fear. That is what Scrooge came to realize through his encounters with the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. He could see that he had been spiritually asleep. Through prayer, which followed the visit of Christmas future, he rediscovered the beauty of living out of love, sharing what he had with others, rather than hoarding. If Scrooge can change, so can we.

To become rich in what matters to God, we must live out of love for God and for others, not the fear of abandonment.  We may expect such giving to hurt, but in reality, we will discover that being generous will leave us feeling safe.  As Scrooge did, we discover that there is much more joy in giving than in receiving. Those of us who were once tight fisted like Scrooge have learned that there is no joy to be found in living out of fear but there is much joy to be found in living out of love and sharing what God has blessed us with, our treasures and our talents.

If we are to become rich in what matters to God, that means changing our attitude toward stewardship. Out of every dollar you earn, how much do you give to the parish and other charities?  Surveys on tithing show that the average Catholic family gives less than two cents of every dollar earned. Is your gift to the parish the first fruits of your earnings or a giving of your loose change?

Being rich in what matters to God begins with an attitude of the heart in which we see ourselves not as owners in the ultimate sense of our possessions but as stewards of what God has entrusted to us. After all, where did we get the intelligence, talents, energy, ability, health, stamina, and love that enable us to be who we are and where we are in life? In return, we are expected to share what God has blessed us with.

Jack Benny, a beloved comedian for many decades on radio and television was often depicted as being tight fisted. In one skit, an armed robber approached him and demanded, “Your money or your life!” There was a long pause, while Benny did nothing and said nothing. Finally, the robber impatiently asked, “Well?”  Benny replied, “Don’t rush me. I’m thinking about it!”

Is that you are doing or has this parable awakened you to what really matters in life before it is too late?

Last week’s gospel, featuring the parable of the Good Samaritan, ends with the mandate from Jesus, “Then go and do the same.” Today’s gospel reading sends us a very different message. We find Martha busy with her household tasks. She is “going and doing,” busily preparing a meal. Meanwhile, her sister, Mary, sits down to listen to Jesus. After complaining that she ought to be helping her in the kitchen, Martha is chided for “going and doing” too much. “Martha, Martha,” Jesus replies, “you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”

Martha and Mary provide a contrast in priorities. Martha’s preoccupation with putting a meal together can be compared to those who busy themselves following the letter of the law, serving others. Many feel good about themselves and their relationship with God because they are busily doing what is expected of them.

That attitude was certainly common among the Pharisees in ancient Israel and is still common among many Christians today. They see themselves as devoutly religious because they carefully observe the many commandments of the Church.

Jesus doesn’t condemn Martha for what she is doing. He is lamenting that, unlike her sister, she isn’t being too attentive to her guest.  On the other hand, Mary puts aside whatever she was doing so that she can seat herself by Jesus and listen to what he has to say.

I read that to sit at the feet of a rabbi implied that you also wanted to be one. A student of the Torah visited his teacher one day and pronounced that in his opinion, he was ready to be ordained a rabbi.

“What are your qualifications?” the rabbi asked. The proud student replied, “I’ve disciplined my body so that I can sleep on the ground, eat the grass of the field and allow myself to be whipped three times a day.”

The teacher then asked, “Do you see that ass over there? It sleeps on the ground, eats the grass of the fields and is whipped no less than three times a day. From what you’ve said, you may qualify to be an ass, but certainly not a rabbi!”

Before we deem ourselves “qualified” to be considered true disciples of Jesus, we had better consider if our lifestyle has allowed God the chance to teach us through prayer what being a disciple is all about.

Mary seizes the opportunity to satisfy her hunger to better know God.  When Jesus points out to Martha that her sister has chosen the better part, he is observing that striving to keep the letter of the law should never take precedence over taking time to be in touch with God through prayer.  This isn’t an either/or proposition that Jesus is placing before us.  We are still expected to serve others, just as the Good Samaritan and Martha did, but we also need to put aside time for God, following the example of Mary.

One doesn’t achieve holiness merely through obedience of the many laws that direct how we as Christians are to live. Holiness is cultivated through the art of praying, which should be the objective of every Christian’s life.

Most of us approach life much like Martha. We are always busy, filling our days with activities, keeping our families fed, clothed, and entertained. Hopefully we also manage to find some time in the midst of all that activity for quiet prayer, which is as vital for our spiritual well being as sleep is for our physical well being.

We gather here for Mass, but that is not the same thing. The Mass is our community prayer. Jesus is the host who invites us to this Eucharistic feast to be fed by him so that when we leave this space, we are empowered to serve him by serving others.

When we leave here, do we make much time to invite Jesus into our lives as our guest?  Do we create quiet time just for God the other days of the week? Do we take time out from our busy schedule to share with God what is going on in our lives, giving God a chance to speak to us?

I imagine for many of us, prayer is not an activity we spend much time doing attentively. The Catechism presumes that when it notes, “Many Christians unconsciously regard prayer as an occupation that is incompatible with all the other things they have to do: they ‘don’t have the time.’”  But the Catechism also cautions, “Prayer is a vital necessity.  If we do not allow the Spirit to lead us, we fall back into the slavery of sin.”

The bottom line is this: life often finds us anxious and worried about many things just as Martha was, so for our well being, we must seek out the better part, that is, make time for personal prayer with Jesus in the midst of our busy lives. Do as Mary did. Entertain the Real Presence with our presence.

That time could be spent examining one’s conscience, reading scripture, meditating, reflecting on the mysteries of the rosary, journaling, doing the liturgy of the hours or striving to better understand our Catholic faith are just a few ways one can pray outside of the Mass. Service to others is expected of us but no act of love speaks more of the desire to welcome Jesus into our lives and hearts than time spent in prayer listening to him, just as Mary did. Only then will the mystery of Christ come fully alive for us. The spiritual life is not easy but it is simpler than you might think.

In what is probably the best known parable in the gospels, we encounter a man who is looking to serve God.  He knows that we need to love God with our whole hearts, minds and souls and to love our neighbor as ourselves, but he wants to cover all his bases, so he asks, “And who is my neighbor?”

That seems like a fairly simple question, doesn’t it? For many of us, our immediate perception of neighbor is the one who lives next door. For the scholar of the law, however, a neighbor was a member of the same religious community. Anyone who was not a Jew the legal scholar would never consider his neighbor.

Since their return from Babylon, the Jews never regarded the Samaritans as neighbors. In fact, they despised them with an animosity akin to the racial prejudices we witnessed in our country’s past. Might a fitting issue here be prejudice? After all, how can you love God and at the same time, despise someone for being racially or ethnically different from you?

When asked who was neighbor to the victim, the scholar of the law replied, “The one who treated him with mercy.” For him and anyone seeking everlasting life, Jesus then said, “Go and do likewise.”

A neighbor then isn’t just someone who lives nearby. A neighbor is a person who shows compassion and mercy to others, someone who has the capacity to feel with us, step into our shoes and relate to where we are at. We do this most naturally with those closest to us, our family, our friends, our kin, namely those who are “like us.”

The more daunting question than who is my neighbor would be “To whom am I a good neighbor?” Like the Samaritan, do I have mercy toward others? That is a question we need to consider because as Moses said to the Israelites, there is a law written in our hearts which calls for compassion in us. Any time we refuse to help, he cautions, we are breaking the law.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “Everybody can be great… because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”  That to me is the point Moses is making. Made in the image of God, we have within us the capacity to love and care. That is part of our human nature, but as Moses says, “You have only to carry it out.”

The Samaritan did. Putting aside his concerns and prejudices, he responded with mercy, enabling the victim to experience God. The priest and the Levite may have known the letter of the Law but they did not have the law of God written in their hearts.

Many of us likewise can be preoccupied with our own concerns so we pass up opportunities to be compassionate. When the circumstance arises, we move on, excusing ourselves for any number of reasons when we come upon someone in need. How often, for example, thinking some other driver can take a chance on picking him up, have you passed a hitchhiker?

Pope John Paul II once wrote, “Love is giving oneself to another, for the good of the other, and receiving the other as a gift.” This lesson proved true for a teenager who gave a helping hand to a classmate.

One day as he was walking home from school, Mark noticed the boy ahead of him had tripped and dropped all the books he was carrying, along with two sweaters, a baseball bat, a glove, and a CD player. He knelt down and helped the boy pick up the scattered articles. Since they were going the same way, Mark helped to carry part of the load. As they walked, he discovered the boy’s name was Bill, that he loved video games, baseball and history, that he was having trouble with some other subjects in school and that he had just broken up with his girl friend.

They arrived at Bill’s home first, so he invited Mark in for a coke and to watch TV. The afternoon passed pleasantly with a few laughs and some shared small talk, then Mark went home. They continued to see each other around school, had lunch together once or twice a week, then both graduated from junior high. They ended up going to the same high where they had brief contacts over the years. Three weeks before graduation, Bill reminded Mark of the day years ago when they first met.

“Do you ever wonder why I was carrying so many things home that day?” asked Bill. “You see, I cleaned out my locker because I didn’t want to leave a mess for anyone else. I had stored away some of my mother’s sleeping pills and I was going home to commit suicide. But after we spent some time together, talking and laughing, I realized that if I had killed myself, I would have missed that time and so many others that might follow. So you see, Mark, when you picked up my books that day, you did a lot more. You saved my life.”  Just think of how many lives we might save with a simple act of compassion.

This parable humbles us like no other, providing us with a ready-made Examination of Conscience. And it does so because it describes such a real situation, laying bare our deep ingrained selfishness and indifference. As we listened, we discovered how we too could be extremely inventive in coming up with excuses for inaction. More importantly, this parable also reminds us that the law of God is written in our hearts as well. Like the Good Samaritan, we reach out to others because through them we are reaching out to God.