There is an old saying that sometimes “less is more.” In other words, at some point excess becomes burdensome and pointless.
In the commercial below, the upgrades to mowing equipment begin as helpful, but end as silly and even dangerous. Meanwhile, the poor wife struggles with an “upgraded” watering can that is downright burdensome.
One of the secrets of life is learning to enjoy things in moderation. A glass of wine brings joy; a full bottle brings inebriation and a hangover. A nice dinner is satisfying, but too much food brings obesity and even disease.
What in your life has become excessive? Where have you come to realize that less is in fact more?
There is an old story that speaks to the true source of freedom:
The philosopher Diogenes was eating bread and lentils for his supper. He was seen by the philosopher Aristippus, who said, “If you would learn to be more subservient to the king, you would not have to live on lentils.” Diogenes replied, “Learn to live on lentils and you will not have to cultivate the king.”
We often think that money, power, and access give us freedom; this may be partially true. If I have money and access I can usually procure more things and have greater variety, but what deeper freedoms have I surrendered for the surface-level freedoms of variety and quantity? In return for these lesser freedoms, the world usually demands a loyalty that require us to surrender important core principles. In exchange for access to this world’s income, approval, and trinkets, it is usually demanded (explicitly or implicitly) that we adopt the ways, thinking, and morals of the world. Satan articulates this transaction very clearly to Jesus:
And the devil took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time, and said to him, “To you I will give all this authority and their glory, for it has been delivered to me, and I give it to whom I will. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours” (Luke 4:5-7).
In making this one concession, Jesus would have gained the “freedom” to maneuver and to do as He pleased—but what a concession!
Worshiping the devil or his world (for he is the prince of this world) is too high a price to pay for its passing and limited freedoms. Yet in subtler but real ways, it is something most of us do. We will compromise moral truths and even commit sin in order to ingratiate ourselves to others. To be popular, we will parrot the views of the world—even if they are contrary to God’s revealed truth; we will remain silent when we should speak. We do not always do this in malice, but rather out of our weakness. We feel pressured to conform, knowing that it is required for access and approval.
Is giving in to this pressure really freedom? As Diogenes teaches, we need to learn to “eat lentils” if we want to be free. We must become free of our desire for this world’s passing trinkets (and they are only trinkets compared to what God offers). Until we do this, the shallow freedoms of the world will appeal to us too much. Of true freedom St. Paul writes,
I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me (Philippians 4:11-13).
In the Gospel for Wednesday of the 11th Week of the Year, Jesus gives an extended teaching on hypocrisy (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18).
Today we tend reduce the idea of hypocrisy to duplicity. The modern notion is that a hypocrite is someone who says one thing but does another, one who is two-faced or phony. While Jesus’ teaching does not exclude this definition, it is far richer.
The biblical word Jesus used to refer to hypocrites is ὑποκριταί (hypokritai), which literally means “stage actors.” On one level it is easy to see how this word has come to mean people who are phony, for they claim to be what they are not; they are just playing a role. When no one is looking (i.e., the audience is gone), the hypocrite reverts to his true self, someone quite different.
In this teaching, Jesus develops the understanding far more richly and shows how sad and poignant hypocrisy is, what its origin is, and how it can be overcome.
Hypocrisy defined – In effect, Jesus describes hypocrisy as the sad state of a person who, because he does not know God the Father, reduces himself to being an actor on a stage. There are many people who live their lives in a desperate search for human approval and applause. They discern their dignity and worth, not from God, who is a stranger to them, but from what other human beings think of them. They are willing to adapt themselves, often in dramatic ways, to win human approval; they are willing to play many roles and wear many masks to please the audience. They are like actors on a stage, who seek applause, or perhaps laughter, and approval. Notice the way Jesus describes the heart of hypocrisy:
Jesus said to his disciples: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them.”
He goes on to say that they blow trumpets so that others will see them giving alms; they pray ostentatiously so that others may see that they are praying; they neglect their appearance so that others may see that they are fasting.
The heart of hypocrisy – The goal of such people is to be noticed. They are “on stage” and seek to ingratiate themselves to the audience and win applause. They engage in particular actions in order that people may see them. This is ultimately sad sight: a lonely actor on a stage, performing whatever role is required in order to win approval from the current audience, his deepest self repressed and replaced by the demands of others. This is the true description of a hypocrite.
Some take this desperate need for approval to self-destructive extremes. Many young people, often due to peer pressure, will engage in dangerous and unhealthy practices in order to gain approval. Some will even drop out of school, join gangs, and/or commit crimes. Others will drink heavily or abuse drugs. Still others will tattoo or pierce their bodies, engage in sexual activity before marriage, or do other risky things. The need for approval is often the deep drive that underlies this desperate behavior. Like actors on a stage seeking applause, they rush to fill these roles to win the approval they seek.
Adults, too, will often compromise their core principles in order to fit in, be liked, win promotions, or earn access. Christians will hide their faith, playing the role of the secular modern, in order to win approval. Some will act deceitfully so as to please their boss; others will gossip or engage in other sinful behaviors to ingratiate themselves to a group.
It is clear that the modern notion of hypocrisy as duplicity, while incomplete, is not entirely wrong. Why does the hypocrite act inconsistently, often in a duplicitous manner? Because the audience changes, and therefore he must change with it. To one group he will say yes and to another he will say no. Because the goal of the hypocrite (actor) is to be seen and to win approval, his answer must change if the group changes. He will morph, conceal his true thoughts, or outright lie in order to gain approval. The hypocrite no longer has a solid core; his identity is outside of himself, changing to whatever the audience requires in order to grant him approval.
Why does this happen to a person? Here, too, Jesus is rather clear: it happens because the person does not know God the Father. This is the tragedy of many people’s lives. They may know about God, but they do not personally know God, nor do they comprehend the depth of His love for them. To them, God is at best a benevolent stranger who runs the universe. He is off in some remote heaven somewhere and the interaction they have with Him is vague and abstract. God exists, but He is on the periphery of their lives. In effect, God is a stranger to them.
Notice the remedy that Jesus gives for each example of hypocrisy he cites:
Your heavenly Father, who sees in secret, will repay you for giving alms … Your heavenly Father, who sees in secret, will repay you for praying … Your heavenly Father, who sees what is hidden, will repay you for your fasting.
It is enough that your heavenly Father sees what you do. Now of course as long as God remains a distant and aloof figure, this will not be enough, but to the degree that we experience God’s love for us, His providence, and His good will toward us, we will be less concerned with what others think. We will begin to come down off the stage. We will focus more on, and be more satisfied with, the approval of God.
Notice, too, the intimacy that Jesus sets forth. Jesus refers to God as “your heavenly Father.” He is not merely the deity. He is not merely “God in Heaven.” He is not even just “the Father.” He is “your heavenly Father.” He is the one who created you, sustains you, provides for you, and loves you.
Journeying away from hypocrisy – To the degree that this is a real experience for us rather than just words on a page or knowledge based on what others have said, start to climb off the stage. We are less the actor (the hypocrite) and more the authentic self that God has created us to be. We begin to lose our obsession with what others think of us. We are less desperate for their approval. It is not that we become sociopaths, caring not one whit what others think. We still groom ourselves, etc., but we are not obsessed with the good opinion of others. It is enough that we know Our Heavenly Father and of His love for us.
Hence hypocrisy, at least as Jesus teaches it here, is a richer concept than we often think of today. To this sad and poignant problem, Jesus addresses a very powerful and personal solution: know “your heavenly Father” and experience His love for you. Thank you, Lord Jesus!
Corner of 7th & N Street NW, Washington D.C., April 8, 1968There was something awful about the year 1968. Fifty years later we are still reeling from its effects. Perhaps we do well to ponder the deep wounds that still fester today.
I was a young lad at the time, and almost everything I saw on the television news terrified me. Harrowing nightly reports from Vietnam (where my father was stationed) detailed that day’s casualties; I always feared that my father had been one of those killed. There were frequent riots and anti-war demonstrations in America’s cities and college campuses. There were two high-profile assassinations: Dr. Martin Luther King in April and Robert F. Kennedy in June. Riots and burning cities followed Dr. King’s assassination. I remember my mother, who was teaching on the South Side of Chicago, having to flee for her life and finally be rescued and escorted out by police. The first stirrings of militant feminism were occurring.
The growing “hippie” movement was fresh off 1967’s “Summer of Love”—which was just an excuse for selfish, spoiled college kids to get high and fornicate while deluding themselves that they were somehow doing a noble thing. This ramped up to the even more hideous Woodstock festival in August of 1969. It popularized the sexual revolution, drug use, rebellion against all authority, and a lot of just plain bad behavior.
In the Church, sweeping changes were underway, adding to the uncertainty of those times. Even if one argues that such changes were necessary, they came at an inopportune time and fed into the popular notions of revolution. The revolt against Pope Paul VI’s magnificent and prophetic Humanae Vitae, published in July of 1968, ushered in a spirit of open dissent that still devastates the Church.
Yes, 1968 was a terrible year. When I mention that year and shake my head, I often get puzzled looks. I stand by my claim: 1968 was a cultural tsunami from which we have not recovered to this day.
Some years ago, I read an article by James Francis Cardinal Stafford, who also singled out 1968 as being a year of intense darkness. He focused particularly on the devastating effects of angry and open dissent, set loose by theologians and priests who rebelled against Humanae Vitae. The Cardinal asserted that the violent revolution raging outside the Church decisively entered within her during that time and that we still stagger from the effects today. Here are some of his observations of that year, when he was a priest in Baltimore:
English historian Paul Johnson dubs 1968 as the year of “America’s Suicide Attempt.” It included the Tet offensive in Vietnam with its tsunami-like effects in American life and politics, the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Memphis, Tennessee; the tumult in American cities on Palm Sunday weekend; and the June assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy in Southern California. It was also the year in which Pope Paul VI issued his encyclical letter on transmitting human life, Humanae Vitae (HV). He met immediate, premeditated, and unprecedented opposition from some American theologians and pastors. By any measure, 1968 was a bitter cup. …
The summer of 1968 is a record of God’s hottest hour. The memories are not forgotten; they are painful. They remain vivid like a tornado in the plains of Colorado. They inhabit the whirlwind where God’s wrath dwells. In 1968, something terrible happened in the Church. Within the ministerial priesthood, ruptures developed everywhere among friends which never healed. And the wounds continue to affect the whole Church. The dissent, together with the leaders’ manipulation of the anger they fomented, became a supreme test. It changed fundamental relationships within the Church. It was a Peirasmòs [i.e., a trial or test] for many.
During the height of the 1968 Baltimore riots following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I had made an emergency call to [an] inner-city pastor … He described the view from the rectory while speaking on the phone … his parish was becoming a raging inferno. He said, “From here I see nothing but fire burning everywhere. Everything has been set ablaze. The Church and rectory are untouched thus far.” He did not wish to leave or be evacuated. His voice betrayed disillusionment and fear. Later we learned that the parish buildings survived.
Memories of the physical violence in the city in April 1968 [following the King assassination] helped me to name what had happened in August 1968 [the explosion of dissent against Humanae Vitae]. Ecclesial dissent can become a kind of spiritual violence in its form and content.
What do I mean? Look at the results of the two events. After the violent 1968 Palm Sunday weekend, civil dialogue in metropolitan Baltimore broke down and came to a stop. It took a back seat to open anger and recriminations between whites and blacks. The … priests’ August gathering [against Humanae Vitae] gave rise to its own ferocious acrimony. Conversations among the clergy … became contaminated with fear. Suspicions among priests were chronic. Fears abounded. And they continue. The Archdiocesan priesthood lost something of the fraternal whole which Baltimore priests had known for generations. 1968 marked the hiatus of the generational communion … Priests’ fraternity had been wounded. Pastoral dissent had attacked the Eucharistic foundation of the Church. Its nuptial significance had been denied. Some priests saw bishops as nothing more than Roman mannequins.
Cardinal Shehan later reported that on Monday morning, August 5, he “was startled to read in the Baltimore Sun that seventy-two priests of the Baltimore area had signed the Statement of Dissent.” What he later called “the years of crisis” began for him during that hot … August evening in 1968 … Its unhinging consequences continue. Abusive, coercive dissent has become a reality in the Church and subjects her to violent, debilitating, unproductive, chronic controversies.
The violence of the initial disobedience was only a prelude to further and more pervasive violence. … Contempt for the truth, whether aggressive or passive, has become common in Church life. Dissenting priests, theologians, and laypeople have continued their coercive techniques. From the beginning, the press has used them to further its own serpentine agenda (The Year of the Peirasmòs – 1968, J. Francis Cardinal Stafford).
Yes, a terrible year 1968 was, and we have yet to recover. Discussion in the Church has often retained its painful, divisive, “spiritually violent” tendencies. Clergy at every level are divided—priests against priests, bishops against bishops, cardinals against cardinals. Division is everywhere. The laity often see bishops as more resembling elected official than the anointed leaders and fathers they are. Sadly, politics do seem to infect ecclesial matters. Cynicism—whatever its source—has crushed our openness to be taught. Many today are neither docile nor loving and supportive of the Church. Discourse in the Church, which should be marked by charity and a family love, is instead modeled on angry political debate and the pursuit of power; an atmosphere of suspicion and scorn is in the air.
Our faith has been divided and politicized even within. Catholics who are passionate about the family, life issues, and sexual morality go to one side of the room; those passionate about the social teachings of the Church to the other. From their respective sides they hurl blame, venom, and scorn, debating who is a true Catholic and who really cares about what is most important. We do this rather than appreciate the work that each of us does, failing to understand that the Church needs two wings to fly.
Add to all of this the wars over the liturgy; scorn and contempt are often evident in discussions of something that should be the source of our greatest unity. Legitimate diversity has become adversity; preferences are dogmatized; arrogance is too easily on display.
It seems that it is easy to get Catholics to fight among themselves. We take the bait every time. The media know it; many politicians know it. Shame on them for doing it, but shame on us for being such an easy target.
To a large extent it goes back to those angry days in 1968, when priests and laity took the violence and discord of that awful year and made it the template for Church life, when there emerged a kind of spiritual violence and discord, when there developed a hermeneutic of suspicion, and when there was an embracing of a distorted ecclesiology of the Church as a political entity rather than the Body of Christ.
Perhaps such tendencies were decades in the making, but as Cardinal Stafford notes, there was something about that hot and fateful August of 1968. Something in that awful year infiltrated the Church and has grown like a cancer. It is still with us today and has infected us all. Somehow, it’s still August; the scorching heat wave lingers, and the hazy air reminds us of the summer of our discontent—that awful, fateful year of 1968. Usquequo Domine … usquequo? (Ps 12:1)
This song says, “I need you, you need me. We’re all part of God’s Body. Stand with me, agree with me, you are important to me, I need you to survive.”
When I was a good bit younger, in college actually, I had to take a few economics and marketing courses. At that time I thought to myself, “God has a bad marketing department,” since things like Scripture and prayer were often so difficult to understand and do. God seemed to insist that we pray, but everyone I ever asked admitted that prayer was difficult. And while many had reasons they offered as to why prayer was difficult, I still wondered why, if God could just zap prayer and make it delightful, He didn’t just do so. “Yes,” I thought, “God has a bad marketing plan!”
But of course God isn’t selling products; He’s raising children. He’s healing hearts, and heart surgery involves pain and often lengthy procedures. Many purifications, mortifications, and changes are going to be necessary if we want to attain holiness and Heaven.
Let’s look at three reasons our soul needs purification. Note that purifications of the soul are akin to, but distinct from, the mortifications necessary for our body and the passions related to it (e.g., gluttony, lust, and greed). For our soul, too, can be weighed down with excesses and defects.
Drawing from the spiritual masters and St. Thomas Aquinas, Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange details three reasons that our soul needs purification, especially as we begin to make progress. They are spiritual pride, spiritual gluttony, and spiritual sloth. Each of these brings conditions and temptations to a soul that is beginning to make some progress in prayer and fervency. The very gifts of progress and fervency are also possible dangers to the ongoing growth that is needed. Thus God purifies us in diverse manners in order to avoid having these traps capture us entirely.
Let’s look at each in turn. The text is my own, but the insights and inspiration are found in Fr. Garrigou-LaGrange’s Three Ages of the Interior Life, Vol two, pp. 44ff, Tan Publications.
I. Spiritual pride – This comes when a person, having made some progress and experienced consolations as well as the deeper prayer of a proficient, begins to consider himself a spiritual master. He or she may also start to judge others severely who seem to have made less progress.
Those afflicted with spiritual pride often “shop around” for a spiritual director, looking for one who affirms rather than challenges their insights. Further, they tend to minimize the true reality of their sins out of a desire to appear more perfected than they really are.
Soon enough we have a Pharisee of sorts, who regards himself too favorably and others too poorly. There is also the problem of hypocrisy, since spiritual pride would have one play the role of a spiritual master and proficient, when one really is not.
God, therefore, must often humble the soul who has begun to make progress. In a certain sense He slows the growth, lest the greatest enemy, pride, claim all the growth.
II. Spiritual sensuality – This is a kind of spiritual gluttony, which consists in being immoderately attached to spiritual consolations. God does sometimes grant these to the soul, but the danger is that the consolations come to be sought for their own sake. One starts to love the consolations of God more than the God of all consolations. Growth in the love of God for His own sake is too easily lost or becomes confused and entangled. Or even worse, it becomes contingent upon consolations, visions, and the like.
Hence God must often withhold these for the sake of the soul, which must learn the discipline of prayer, with or without consolations, and to love God for His own sake. Uncorrected, spiritual gluttony can lead to spiritual sloth, which we consider next.
III. Spiritual sloth – This emerges when spiritual gluttony or other expectations of prayer are not met. There sets up a kind of impatience or even disgust for prayer and the narrow way of the spiritual life. Flowing from this is discouragement, a sluggishness that cancels zeal, and the dissipation of prayer and other spiritual practices. One allows endless distractions, makes excuses, shortens prayer and other spiritual exercises, or does them in a perfunctory manner.
Here, too, God must seek to purify the soul of attachment to consolations, lest such sloth lead to a complete disgust and a refusal to walk the narrow way of the spiritual life. Perhaps this sort of purification will take place through secondary causes, wherein the Lord acts though a spiritual director to insist on prayer, no matter how difficult. Perhaps, too, certain seasons such as Lent and Advent, or other “ember days” and the like will be used by God to bring greater zeal to the soul weighed down with spiritual sloth.
Clearly, God must correct this spiritual sloth and help us to accept God and prayer on His terms, not ours. The insistence on delight and consolations on our own terms is a great enemy to the docility and humility necessary for true growth.
Yes, there are many purifications necessary for us, whether we like to admit it or not. We might like to think that our spiritual life would itself be free from excesses or defects or at least would be a sign of great progress. But often even the most beautiful prayer experiences and spiritual stages are replete with the need for purification and further growth. Perhaps this is what Isaiah meant when he wrote,
In our sins we have been a long time, and shall we be saved? We have all become like one who is unclean, and even our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment (Is 64:5-6).
In daily Mass for Monday of the 11th Week of the Year, we read a passage from the Sermon on the Mount. It is a challenging text that raises many questions if read in a literal or absolute manner.
You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well. If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well. … You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you … (Matt 5:38-44).
What a text. It seems to preclude self-defense! What does it mean to “offer no resistance to one who is evil”? Jesus does not say that one should not defend oneself if attacked; He says that one should turn the other cheek. Is this a call to radical pacifism? Does this mean that a nation should have no police force, no judicial system, no army? So radical does this text seem to most that they are overwhelmed and simply turn the page.
Instead of turning the page, though, we might do well to reflect on its message:
The text seems to be more about offenses against personal dignity than physical attack. It is true that a strike on the cheek is physical, but in the ancient world such acts were understood as an attack on personal dignity rather than a grave physical threat. This is the case even today. Being slapped in the face is not a devastating threat to physical well-being; it is an insult. In the ancient world one who wished to humiliate a person struck the person’s left cheek with his open right hand. For the one struck, this was an indignity to endure, but not the worst one that could be inflicted. The worst insult that could be given was striking the right cheek of a person with the back of one’s right hand.
So, what Jesus is describing in this passage is more a question of dignity. His basic teaching is that if someone tries to rob you of your dignity (by a slap on the cheek), realize that your dignity does not come from what others think of you; it is given by God and no one can take it from you. Demonstrate your understanding of this by offering your other cheek. Don’t retaliate to “regain” your dignity. The one who struck didn’t give you your dignity and cannot take it away from you. To retaliate is to enter the world of the one who insulted you. Stand your ground; do not flee, but do not become like the one who insulted you.
This text is not about defending oneself from life-threatening physical attack; it is a text about personal dignity. Wanting to get back at others because they offended you, or did not praise you enough, or poked fun at you, or did not give you your due; all of that ends because it no longer matters to you—at least not when Jesus starts to live His life in you.
So, this text has a cultural context that does not necessarily require us to interpret Jesus’ words as an absolute exclusion of legitimate self-defense in moments of serious physical threat.
Any distinctions I have made above by way of explanation should not remove the core of Jesus’ message, which is meant to limit retaliation and remove from it anything “personal” other than the protection of one’s life from imminent threat or significant injustice.
This reflection serves as background to the Church’s careful and thoughtful approach to the subject of necessary self-defense. The Catechism of the Catholic Church sets forth this teaching as part of its exposition on the 5th Commandment (Thou Shalt Not Kill). Here are some excerpts:
The legitimate defense of persons and societies is not an exception to the prohibition against the murder of the innocent that constitutes intentional killing. “The act of self-defense can have a double effect: the preservation of one’s own life; and the killing of the aggressor … The one is intended, the other is not” (CCC #2263).
Love toward oneself remains a fundamental principle of morality. Therefore, it is legitimate to insist on respect for one’s own right to life. Someone who defends his life is not guilty of murder even if he is forced to deal his aggressor a lethal blow: If a man in self-defense uses more than necessary violence, it will be unlawful: whereas if he repels force with moderation, his defense will be lawful … Nor is it necessary for salvation that a man omit the act of moderate self-defense to avoid killing the other man, since one is bound to take care of one’s own life than of another’s (CCC #2264).
Legitimate defense can be not only a right but a grave duty for one who is responsible for the lives of others. The defense of the common good requires that an unjust aggressor be rendered unable to cause harm. For this reason, those who legitimately hold authority also have the right to use arms to repel aggressors against the civil community entrusted to their responsibility (CCC #2265).
The efforts of the state to curb the spread of behavior harmful to people’s rights and to the basic rules of civil society correspond to the requirement of safeguarding the common good. Legitimate public authority has the right and duty to inflict punishment proportionate to the gravity of the offense. Punishment has the primary aim of redressing the disorder introduced by the offense. When it is willingly accepted by the guilty party, it assumes the value of expiation. Punishment then, in addition to defending public order and protecting people’s safety, has a medicinal purpose: as far as possible, it must contribute to the correction of the guilty party (CCC #2266).
Assuming that the guilty party’s identity and responsibility have been fully determined, the traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude recourse to the death penalty, if this is the only possible way of effectively defending human lives against the unjust aggressor. If, however, non-lethal means are sufficient to defend and protect people’s safety from the aggressor, authority will limit itself to such means, as these are more in keeping with the concrete conditions of the common good and more in conformity to the dignity of the human person. Today, in fact, as a consequence of the possibilities which the state has for effectively preventing crime, by rendering one who has committed an offense incapable of doing harm—without definitely taking away from him the possibility of redeeming himself—the cases in which the execution of the offender is an absolute necessity “are very rare, if not practically nonexistent” (CCC #2267).
All citizens and all governments are obliged to work for the avoidance of war. However, “as long as the danger of war persists and there is no international authority with the necessary competence and power, governments cannot be denied the right of lawful self-defense, once all peace efforts have failed (CCC #2308).
The strict conditions for legitimate defense by military force require rigorous consideration. The gravity of such a decision makes it subject to rigorous conditions of moral legitimacy. At one and the same time:
the damage inflicted by the aggressor on the nation or community of nations must be lasting, grave, and certain;
all other means of putting an end to it must have been shown to be impractical or ineffective;
there must be serious prospects of success;
the use of arms must not produce evils and disorders graver than the evil to be eliminated. The power of modern means of destruction weighs very heavily in evaluating this condition.
These are the traditional elements enumerated in what is called the “just war” doctrine (CCC #2309).
Thus, self-defense and the ending of unjust aggression should never be something we do lightly or without reflection. The Lord and the Church require of us serious reasons for bringing lethal blows even to enemies; we should never undertake such measures without considering carefully other less-extreme responses. Respect for life means that I can demand my enemy respect my life, but also means that I must respect his. Recourse to war or other lethal measures may sometimes be necessary, but we must examine our motives and carefully consider alternative methods.
Finally, recall that the Sermon on the Mount is not a list of moral rules that we are expected to follow with the power of our own flesh. Rather, they are a description of the transformed human person. They describe what a person is like when the Lord lives in him and transforms him by His grace. The transformed person is not excessively concerned with personal dignity. The world did not bestow dignity and thus cannot take it away. The transformed person is not concerned with getting back at those who have inflicted blows against their dignity; He is content to be in God’s favor and increasingly free of vainglory, the excessive desire for human praise and standing.
The readings for this Sunday speak of God’s providence, which is often displayed in humble, hidden, and mysterious ways. While it is true that God sometimes works in overpowering ways, His more common method seems to be using the humble and even unlikely things of the created order to accomplish His goals.
For us who are disciples, there are three related teachings given to us that speak of how God will make use of us and others. It is also good to link these teaching to Father’s Day, which occurs this weekend here in the U.S. These three teachings can be described as Adaptability, “Awe-Ability,” and Accountability.
ADAPTABILITY– In today’s first reading and in the Gospel, we hear how God can take something humble and adapt it to be something mighty and powerful.
The tender shoot of the first reading becomes a mighty oak: I [the Lord] will take from the crest of the cedar…a tender shoot, and plant it on a high and lofty mountain. … It shall put forth branches and bear fruit and become a majestic cedar (Ezekiel 17:22-23).
The mustard seed of the first reading which becomes a great shade tree:The … kingdom of God … is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade (Mk 4:32-33).
Yes, God adapts us for His purposes and no one should say, “I cannot be used.” An old song says, “If you can use anything Lord, you can use me.” There’s a litany I’ve seen floating around the Internet that says,
The next time you think God can’t use you, remember
Noah was a drunk
Abraham was too old
Isaac was a daydreamer
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses was murderer had a stuttering problem
Gideon was afraid
Samson had long hair and was a womanizer
Rahab was a prostitute
Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
David had an affair and was a murderer
Elijah was suicidal
Isaiah preached naked
Jonah ran from God
Naomi was a widow
Job went bankrupt and was depressed
Peter denied Christ
The Disciples fell asleep while praying
Martha worried about everything
The Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once
Zaccheus was too small
Paul was too argumentative
Timothy had an ulcer
and Lazarus was dead!
No excuses, then, God chooses the weak and makes them strong
In fact, it is often our very weakness that is the open door for God. In our strength we are usually too proud to be of any use to Him. Moses was too strong at age forty when he pridefully murdered a man, thinking he was doing both the Jews and God a favor. Only forty years later, at the age of eighty, was Moses weak and humble enough to depend on God. Only then could God use him.
We are invited in this principle to consider that it is not merely in the “biggie-wow” things we do that God can work. It is also in the humble and imperfect things about us—the mustard seed of faith, the tiny shoots, the humble growth—that God can magnify His power.
So, God can adapt even the humblest, most ordinary, lowliest things and from them bring forth might and lasting fruit. Never despair of what is most humble about you, or that you are of little account on the world’s stage. It is precisely our humble state that God most often uses to bring forth His greatest and most lasting works.
“AWE-ABILITY” – This is the capacity to reverence mystery and to have wonder and awe at what God does. In today’s Gospel, Jesus emphasizes that although a man plants seeds, he does not really know the deeper mysteries of life and growth:
This is how it is with the kingdom of God; it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and through it all the seed would sprout and grow, he knows not how (Mk 4:26-27).
Despite our often-self-congratulatory celebration of our scientific prowess and of how much we know, there is much more that we neither know nor understand. We do well to maintain a reverential awe of the deeper mysteries of God’s works and His ways. We are also rather poor at assessing the effectiveness of our methods. We may come away from a project considering it to have been very effective, and yet little comes of it in the long run. Conversely, sometimes what we consider to have been an ineffective effort may bear great fruit. God works in His own ways and we do well to remember that He can surprise us, reminding us that He is able and is in charge.
Some years ago, a friend of mine had on her desk a “God can.” It was a metal cookie tin with the following saying on its lid: He worketh in strange and mysterious ways, his wonders to perform. Into this box she would place slips of papers on which were written the challenges, struggles, and failures of her life. When she reached the limits of her strengths and abilities, she would say, “I can’t, but God can.” So, into this metal “God can” went the slips of paper, placed there in the hope that God would make a way out of no way. Quite often He did.
We do well to cultivate a sense of wonder and awe at who God is and how He works. Not only does this bring us joy, but it also opens us to hope. It reminds us that God can work in hidden ways to exult what is humble and to bring great transformation to those who are cast down and troubled. As we saw in the “adaptability” section of this post, it is often in the humblest things that God performs His mightiest works.
ACCOUNTABILITY– If it is true that we can’t, but God can; if it is true that God can use us mightily despite our humble state, our weakness, and even our sinfulness; then there can be no excuse for not bearing fruit in our life. Each of us is accountable to the Lord for how we let Him use us and work through us to further His Kingdom.
The second reading reminds that we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense, according to what he did in the body, whether good or evil (2 Cor 5:9-10).
God is able to adapt and to work in wondrous and hidden ways to lift us up, even if we are humble and struggle. Given this capacity of God’s, we must one day render an account of how we have responded to God’s grace and His invitation to be used for His work.
On that day of judgment, the answer “I couldn’t” will ring hollow, because God can. Today’s readings remind us to be open to what God can do, often in mysterious ways, and even with the most humble things in our life.
Today is also Father’s Day, and so the following litany of resolution seems appropriate:
I DO solemnly resolve before God to take full responsibility for myself, my wife, and my children.
I WILL love them, protect them, serve them, and teach them the Word of God as the spiritual leader of my home.
I WILL be faithful to my wife, to love and honor her, and be willing to lay down my life for her as Jesus Christ did for me.
I WILL bless my children and teach them to love God with all of their hearts, all of their minds, and all of their strength.
I WILL train them to honor authority and live responsibly.
I WILL confront evil, pursue justice, and love mercy.
I WILL pray for others and treat them with kindness, respect, and compassion.
I WILL work diligently to provide for the needs of my family.
I WILL forgive those who have wronged me and reconcile with those I have wronged.
I WILL learn from my mistakes, repent of my sins, and walk with integrity as a man answerable to God.
I WILL seek to honor God, be faithful to His church, obey His Word, and do His will.
I WILL courageously work with the strength God provides to fulfill this resolution for the rest of my life and for His glory.
As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord (Joshua 24:15).
This resolution comes from the 2011 movie Courageous, which I strongly recommend seeing.
All of us, men and women, will be held accountable, for even if we can’t, God can. Even if we feel too humble and insignificant, God does His greatest work with humble things and humble people. For us, it is simply to say that we have an adaptability that God can use. This should inspire in us an “awe-ability” that joyfully acknowledges God’s often secretive and hidden power. If that be the case, then, knowing our accountability, it simply remains for us to say, “If you can use anything, Lord, you can use me!”
The word honesty comes from the Latin honestas meaning an honor received from others, a kind of “standing in honor” before others (honor + stas (to stand)). It’s interesting that most people are willing to be a little phony in order to get vague appreciation or to be thought well of. (The whole cosmetics industry is based on this.) But when one is actually “honored” in a formal way by others, there is an elevated sense that we need to truthfully deserve the honor. And thus honor calls forth honesty.
A similar concept is sincerity. The word sincerity comes from the Latin as well: sine (without) + cera (wax). It seems that sculptors in the ancient world often used a hard, resin-like wax to hide their errors. But every now and then there was the perfect carving, with no wax needed, nothing phony about it, no cover-ups.
I thought about these words as I saw this commercial. In the ad, the “honor” of engagement draws forth honesty and sincerity. The honesty of one person brings forth the honesty of the other and they both end up more relaxed.
There is an old saying that sometimes “less is more.” In other words, at some point excess becomes burdensome and pointless.
