Squandered Chances

If you are a sports fan, you know that one of the most important elements in any game is the use of time. A football coach may be a great leader of men and a wonderful crafter of plays, but if he can’t manage the clock, he may well let a game slip away at the end. I remember watching an SEC game several years ago in which that very scenario played out. It was Auburn and LSU and it had been a close game, with the two teams going back and forth in taking the lead. At the end of the fourth quarter, LSU was driving down the field, getting close to scoring but taking a lot of time doing so. As the clock ran down, they ran a play that got into the end zone that looked to be the game-winning touchdown. However, Auburn challenged, and upon review, it was clear that the clock had ticked to zero before LSU had actually snapped the ball, meaning the game-winning play didn’t actually count. LSU had already been celebrating their victory, but it turns out Auburn was actually the winning team.

As a sports fan, there’s a sinking feeling when those kinds of things happen – knowing that what could have been isn’t, because the clock was mismanaged or there was a lack of urgency. The same is true in life. Each of us has only a limited time on earth, but unlike football games, we don’t have a clock ticking down to tell us when that time is up. We have to be careful not to mismanage our time, so to speak, and let time run out on us. 

The Rich Man in Hell, Seeing Lazarus Embraced by Abraham, from The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (1554) by Heinrich Aldegrever

The Gospel for today ends with the same sense of a wasted opportunity, a squandered chance for the rich man to have done what he should have. Instead, he quickly finds that he is on the losing end of things. This story of Lazarus and the rich man is the last in a series of parables that Jesus uses to warn us about the dangers of our possessions. Two weeks ago, we heard the story of the prodigal son, who was so obsessed with his father’s wealth that he demands his share of it and abandons his family. As we remember, he comes to his senses and fortunately for him, his father welcomes him back mercifully. Last week, we heard the difficult parable about the dishonest steward, who realizes he’s about to be fired and utilizes his master’s debts to make friends for himself with the debtors. Jesus encourages us to use our material possessions to benefit those less fortunate than ourselves. 

Looking back at the messages of those Gospels helps us understand today’s parable. Two weeks ago – “Don’t be obsessed by your material possessions.” Last week – “Use your material possessions for spiritual purposes.” What’s the message this week? We might say it is something like, “Your material possessions are not yours alone; the poor and the needy also have a right to them.” That’s a tough message to swallow and Jesus knows it. The parables on possessions these last three weeks have been building in intensity, and to a degree, this week’s is the one meant to irk us the most. 

In a sense, I think Jesus wants us to sympathize a bit with the rich man. After all, he does nothing to abuse Lazarus or make his fate worse. And after his death, the rich man shows genuine concern for his family, fearing that they will suffer the same fate as he. So what exactly is the rich man’s sin? 

Two things, and two that we also need to be aware of. The first is that the rich man is defined by his possessions. Notice that we don’t know his name – his wealth is his identity. That’s a subtle warning that we must not let the same be said of us. Material wealth is not an evil in itself, but it is extremely dangerous spiritually. Most of us may not think of our ourselves as overly wealthy – not as compared to others at least. But do we think of the inverse – that compared to others, in our country and our world, most of us are pretty well off? We know elsewhere in the Gospel that Jesus says material wealth presents an incredible hindrance to heavenly glory – it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom (Mt 19:34). The only solution is generosity – to use our material possessions to “make friends” with the poor, as Jesus said last week. Whatever your state in life, whether you are wealthy or poor, make sure that you are known for your generosity – for your desire to help those in need. 

The second sin of the rich man is that he fails to help Lazarus. Whether intentionally or merely because he was oblivious, the rich man does nothing for a man literally lying destitute at his doorstep every day. Did the rich man have an obligation to help Lazarus? Not a legal one – there’s no law then or now that we must help a particular person with our own hard-earned money. But according to Jesus, he had a moral obligation. The wealth that the rich man had – just like our own wealth – perhaps came through his own skill or creativity or hard work … but ultimately, as with every blessing, it comes from God, and so it must be used for God’s purposes. Does that mean we have an obligation to give to every charity that asks of us, or to every homeless person that we see on the side of the highway? No. But we do have to help someone, and we do have to be discerning about who we are especially obligated to help – those who are within our reach to help. The rich man easily could have done something to help Lazarus, but he was “complacent,” as the prophet Amos calls it. It may well be that, as it was for the rich man, God will remember in our judgments whether we helped or neglected to help those who in need who are right in front of us. 

Friends, as with any sports competition, the clock in life is ticking away and perhaps running out more quickly than we might think. Don’t be caught just short at the goal line, as the LSU team was. The rich man surely would have treated Lazarus differently if he had known that God holds us responsible for the well-being of those around us. The Gospel today ensures that we can’t utilize a similar excuse. Let’s not be oblivious, indifferent, or complacent about the state of others in need – whether materially or emotionally or spiritually. Jesus urges us to be generous with what we have with the poor, and he means with our money, with our possessions. In a broader sense, we also must be generous in the same way with our time, with our concern, with our kindness, with our prayer, with our attention to how others may be in need in any way. All that we have is a gift, and just as God has given freely to each of us, he calls us to give freely in return.

To Save Sinners

In the year 1748, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, a young sailor named John Newton prayed aloud to God. He had lived a sinful life – greedy, profane, licentious, involved for the last few years in the selling of African slaves to the West Indies. John had paid God little mind, but in that moment he turned to him in desperation: his ship was in the midst of a violent storm, on the brink of sinking. He prayed to God to have mercy, and the storm calmed. By the time he got to his destination, John’s heart had been changed. He gave up drinking and gambling, he accepted the Christian Gospel, and left the slave trade and became an abolitionist. He studied for the ministry and became an Anglican clergyman. He began writing hymns to help his preaching, and on New Year’s Day, 1773, some twenty-five years after his first experience of God’s mercy, John Newton shared with his congregation the hymn that we know today as “Amazing Grace.”

 Ivan Aivazovsky, Storm on the North Sea (1865)

Christianity has countless stories like that one – stories of conversion, of the power of God’s amazing grace to change sinful hearts. Saint Paul, writing to protégé Timothy, tells us in today’s second reading that this is the very purpose for our faith: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners and of these I am the foremost.” God did not send his beloved Son to us merely to reveal some esoteric truth or give us a particular program for how live well. No, Jesus came to save wretched sinners. In Christ, God searches for those who are lost in order to save them.

I think this idea, while very basic to our Christian faith, is something that we have to keep in the forefront of our minds in the present day. Our culture today loves the idea of personal transformation, of self-improvement, of remaking ourselves in the way that we desire. And while that notion is okay in regard to some things, it just doesn’t work in regard to sin. You can’t forgive yourself; you can’t be reconciled to God and others on your own. In the Gospel parable, the sinful son wants to return to his father’s house, but he needs the father’s forgiveness to actually do so. In fact, according to Christian theology, we would go even farther and say that even the desire to return is an initiative of God’s grace. Apart from him, we can truly do nothing (Jn 15:5); we are like the coin lost in a dusty corner, like the sheep that has gone astray. We need God to save us.

Thanks be to God that he has given us a Savior in Jesus. But remember why Jesus has come – to save sinners. And so if we want a relationship with Jesus, we first need to ask ourselves, “Am I a sinner? Do I need to be saved?” Of course, we know the answer is YES. But I wonder how much we actually think about our own sinfulness, not just in an abstract way but by actually recalling the sins of our lives? It’s clear that John Newton did that when he was composing hymns like “Amazing Grace.” It’s clear that Saint Paul spoke confidently to Timothy about the importance of conversion because he had personally experienced a conversion himself: though a “blasphemer and a persecutor,” he was mercifully treated. Paul encountered the Risen Jesus on the road to Damascus and was not just forgiven but transformed into an apostle, a witness to others of the mercy that he had received. 

The Conversion of Saul (c. 1600) by Caravaggio

No one enjoys thinking of their own faults and flaws. So it's not easy to admit we are sinners and to think about our sins – to call to mind those particular moments in our lives, whether past or present, when we truly were lost and broken and in need of salvation. But doing so can be really important for us spiritually. It helps think of God’s mercy as not just an abstract idea but as a personal reality, something that has particular meaning for me and which I might be able to share with others. Recalling our sins and our experiences of forgiveness can also carry us through difficult or dry times, helping us remember God’s love even when we may not be feeling it at the moment. Perhaps most importantly, recalling our own sins can help us be compassionate and forgiving of the sins of others. God often seeks out those who were lost through the help of others, through the kindness and patience and support of sinners who themselves have come to know God’s healing mercy. Remember that the next time you are tempted to judge another for their sins – it may be that God is inviting you in that moment to be an instrument of his mercy for that person, whether through word, example, or prayer, if nothing else. 

Friends, at the heart of the Christian story is the encounter with God’s “amazing grace”, his mercy made real and visible in the person of Jesus. We each have a story of conversion to tell, a story of how God has lifted us up out of our sinfulness, and God invites us to share that story – perhaps not by penning a hymn as John Newton did, or a letter as Saint Paul did, but in some other way unique to us. Spend some time in prayer this week to consider your own story of conversion and who the Lord might be inviting you to share it with, who in your life might desperately need to hear from you what Saint Paul shared with Timothy: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners and of these I am the foremost.”

Blood and Water

Are you familiar with the phrase “blood runs thicker than water”? Even if you had never heard it before, you could probably guess its meaning: family ties are more important than any other kind of relationship. Believe it or not, the phrase goes all the way back to the Middle Ages, a time when blood feuds between families sometimes lasted for generations. People do all kinds of things for family, both good and bad, that they would never do for anyone else because “blood runs thicker than water.” Nothing is more sacred than family.

And yet, we hear Jesus say this in the Gospel today: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” Jesus’s words are startling, and they are meant to be so; they are meant to surprise us, make us uncomfortable, and prompt us to ask, “What could Jesus possibly mean?” Now, of course, Jesus doesn’t literally mean that we should hate our loved ones, in the sense that we would bear malice against them. In other places in the Gospels, Jesus talks about the importance of caring for elderly parents, and we know from the letters of St. Paul that love for one’s family was important for early Christians. But Jesus does know that “blood runs thicker than water” – he knows that family is the most important thing to us. And so, it’s for just that reason that he uses hyperbole to show that to be his disciple, we must be devoted to him before anything else, even to the blood relations that mean so much to us. To follow Christ, one must be single-minded, unwavering, such that anything else – even our relationship to family – pales in comparison.

Why does Jesus feel the need to talk this way? If you notice, the Gospel passage begins by saying that “great crowds were traveling with Jesus.” No doubt many had been attracted to Jesus because of his striking message and the miracles he performed. Perhaps Jesus senses though that many who were following him were doing so half-heartedly, curious to see what he would do or say next but not necessarily really buying in. Or perhaps they thought they knew what discipleship meant but were mistaken about what it was really going to take.

Thus, the reason for our passage today. Jesus wants to make it perfectly clear that being his disciple requires more than merely physically follow him around. Or, speaking in today’s terms, we might say that to really live as a Christian requires more than merely calling yourself one, more than merely having a vague notion that the teachings of Jesus are important and we need to follow them. If Jesus knew that many of those who were physically following him around were not really up to doing what it would really take to be his disciple, how much more so that might be true for some today who call themselves Christian but who really aren’t living that identity out in any meaningful way, who really haven’t given up anything to follow the Lord, whether possessions, or blood relations, or even one’s own sins. To follow Christ means to sacrifice something important, something precious. If blood runs thicker than water, it’s going to be blood that he asks for.

Discipleship always has a cost. In my time as a priest, I have found that most of us know that we are going to have to give up a little something to follow Jesus. Maybe we are willing to give up a little bit of our time or treasure to be a part of the Church community; maybe we are willing to be a little more understanding, or forgiving, or a little less gluttonous, or lustful, or slothful; maybe we are willing to spend a little more time in prayer or in service to our neighbor. But sooner or later, it inevitably happens that we come up against something truly costly – something where our Christian faith asks us to do something and we think, “Whoa, I’m not sure I can do that.” Maybe it is “I’m not sure I can forgive that person,” or “I’m not sure I can give up that sin,” or “I’m not sure I can really give of myself to that person or that community in the way they’re asking me.” And 99% of the time, that’s precisely what we are being called to do. That’s the moment when we discover the true cost of following Jesus – that’s the moment that all of that other stuff that we thought we were doing to follow Jesus pales in comparison in that moment, and we confront the fact that it is this thing or this person or this situation that really shows us what being a Christian is going to take.

Anthony van Dyck, Christ Crucified with the Virgin, Saint John, and Mary Magdalene (c. 1619)

Jesus uses a particular image in today’s Gospel to show what it will cost to be his disciple: “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” That image of carrying a cross has probably lost some of its power for us, but it would have been a shocking one to those crowds listening to Jesus. The cross was an instrument of torture and humiliation; it meant utter rejection on the part of the world, utter abandonment and isolation. Yet long before Jesus ever steps foot in Jerusalem he begins using the image of the Cross to describe the high bar of discipleship – of whether one is living as a friend of Jesus or not.

Let’s consider a particular example of the kind of cross that discipleship might present. In the second reading today, St. Paul is writing to his friend Philemon, a fellow Christian and someone of importance. Paul is writing to him about another man, Onesimus, who had once been Philemon’s slave and who had now himself become a Christian. It’s clear from the letter that there was some tension or past grievance between Philemon and Onesimus; maybe Onesimus ran away from his master, or maybe there was some other kind of falling out between them. Paul is writing to ask Philemon to forgive Onesimus and welcome him back, not as a slave but as an equal. For Paul, what matters is not the dispute that Philemon and Onesimus have, but the fact that they have shared in the waters of baptism and have partaken of the same Body and Blood of the Lord. Whatever their past animosity, they are now fellow brothers in Christ.

If that doesn’t sound so difficult, then consider this: Paul sends this letter to Philemon via Onesimus himself. In essence, he’s asking Philemon to consider the meaning of his discipleship right there on the spot – he’s asking him to forgive his former slave as he stands right in front of him, to swallow his pride or anger or whatever other social or moral grievance he might be feeling toward Onesimus, and forgive him, even embrace him, as his equal. And Paul asks something just as hard of Onesimus, maybe even harder – he asks him, as a former slave, to go back to his previous owner, someone that he doesn’t know will forgive him, someone who may well put him back into slavery, or throw him into prison, or worse. We don’t know how exactly things resolved between Philemon and Onesimus. But the fact that this letter has a treasured place in our Christian Scriptures, and the fact that we honor both Philemon and Onesimus as saints, suggests that were able to be reconciled, to forgive and be forgiven. Undoubtedly, it was very difficult; perhaps to do so went against every all of their instincts and impulses, except what their Christian faith told them. But that’s the sacrifice of discipleship – that’s what it cost them to follow Jesus. 

Friends, we all have to sacrifice something to follow the Lord, and not just something common or convenient. In fact, at times we will be asked to give up what we treasure the most, to do what seems like the most difficult thing to do. Why? Because Jesus is remaking the world, he’s remaking reality in his own image. Nothing is more sacred than family – and Jesus is forming a new family, one bound not by blood relationships but by discipleship, by the blood and water that flowed from the side of Christ, that comes to us in the sacraments. The Church is the family of those who carry the Cross, who prefer nothing to the love of Christ.

What cross are you being asked to take up and carry? What is it costing you to be a friend of Jesus? St. Paul asked Philemon and Onesimus to set aside their differences to come together as brothers in the Church, to let go of whatever a blood feud might have demanded so that they could share fraternally in the Body and Blood of the Lord. As we prepare to partake of the same Sacrament of the Altar, let’s ask the Lord to help us recognize what being his disciples is going to cost us and find the strength in this Eucharist to accept that cost with joyful hearts.

More Than Manners

Judith Martin is an American writer who for more than forty years has had a syndicated newspaper column in which she answers readers’ questions about social etiquette. She’s better known by her pen name Miss Manners. Miss Manners can advise you on the proper and polite way to behave at all kinds of social functions. In an era when good manners seem to be increasingly a thing of the past, Miss Manners helps her readers mind them nonetheless.

Manners play an important role in today’s Gospel. Jesus is attending a dinner party of one of the leading Pharisees of the day, a dinner no doubt attended by other prominent persons. As we heard, they invited him to see how this famous but itinerant rabbi would behave in a social situation that was probably much more elevated than what he was used to. As always, Jesus is full of surprises: he uses the occasion to give a parable which has a critique for everyone present. He tells the guests they should not be so eager to vie for social position lest they be shamed in having to give up their place to someone more important. And to his host, Jesus gives a list of guests who would have been better than the ones he had invited: the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Jesus is never portrayed in the Gospels as someone who cares too much about social convention, but offending everyone present is a little extreme even for him.

Of course, Jesus is not being rude for rude’s sake. His parable is intended to help those present, and us who hear it today, learn a wisdom that goes far beyond social etiquette – a kind of good behavior that far exceeds what Miss Manners can tell you. Jesus is advising us that for the kingdom of God, humility is the social standard that matters. From Adam and Eve until today, every sin is a form of pride, when we think that in a given circumstance or situation we know better than God what is best for us. It’s for that reason that humility, the antidote to pride, has a special favor in God’s eyes. As the Book of Sirach says in our first reading, God favors humility because it helps us maintain right relationship to him and to everyone else. If pride is the beginning of every sin, then humility is the beginning of all virtue. 

Luke 14 Banquet by Hyatt Moore

Humility is a good virtue to strive for, but it presents a particular problem: it's hard to assess. We know that if a person says, “I’m very humble; I’m really great at humility,” then we can be sure that by that very statement they’ve missed the mark. At other times, we may think that humility is about putting ourselves down, about thinking lesser of our own worth and value as compared to others. But that’s also a mistake, because humility is not about being demure and unassuming, about thinking how low and unfortunate and undeserving we are – that’s just a hidden form of spiritual pride. True humility is about understanding ourselves rightly, about maintaining a proper order between ourselves and God and others.

That’s a difficult thing to analyze. So how do we know when we have achieved humility? I think the answer is that we can’t. Humility is really only a virtue that can be seen by others, and for most of us, it’s probably something we can always stand to have more of, a virtue to grow in until the day we die. We’ve all heard that saying, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” There’s some truth to that but really humility is better described by what C.S. Lewis once wrote: the truly humble man does not think about his own humility because he doesn’t think about himself much at all.

As Jesus describes in the Gospel, humility is best achieved by concrete actions. If I may, taking a cue from Miss Manners, allow me to suggest some things that we can do, myself included, to seek to grow in humility:

1) Pray. Making prayer an integral part of our daily routine is a great way of ensuring we don’t become too full of ourselves. Whether it is a blessing before meals, or making a morning offering or an evening examination of conscience, or simply elevating our thoughts to God and speaking to him from our heart throughout the day, prayer helps us to remain in right relationship with the God who has made us and who sustains in being.

2) Love the Eucharist. Jesus gives us the command to be humble in today’s Gospel, but he shows us the standard for how to be humble by his sacrifice on the Cross. Each time we come to Mass, we are made spiritually present at the moment on Calvary, gaining strength from our Lord’s example. Each time we receive the Eucharist, we receive the Lord’s own Real Presence, who is humble enough to come to us hidden under the appearance of bread and wine. By contemplating the love of such a humble Savior, we can find the strength to love his presence in the humblest of our brothers and sisters.

3) Give alms. Almsgiving in the Christian life is about more than just being generous with our money. It also means understanding how the things I own also belong to those who are most in need. St. John Chrysostom, the 4th century bishop, once preached that we offend God when we seek to honor his presence in church but ignore his presence in the world around us. The most precious temple, he said, is not a church building but the person in our midst whose affliction we can directly help. That's why charitable works and charitable giving are never optional for us, even when money is tight. It's an essential part of the lived experience of our faith, and a great way of growing in humility.

Friends, we can learn from Miss Manners about politeness, propriety, and the other social virtues needed for banquets on earth. But only Jesus can teach us the virtues that will aid us in reaching the heavenly banquet. In a world gone mad with ambition, greed, and jostling for position, perhaps the virtue we need more than any other is humility, the virtue that Jesus demonstrates better than anyone else. The humble person enjoys a special favor in the eyes of God because in humility we become more like Jesus himself. Through prayer, through love of the Eucharist, and through charity and almsgiving, we can strive to put humility into action, and so become worthy of a place at the heavenly feast.