Lord, It's Hard to Be Humble

 Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    There certainly is a country song for every occasion and situation, and as I read over this weekend’s readings, one came to mind called, “It’s Hard to Be Humble.”  When I first heard Willie Nelson singing it, someone I know comes to mind.  I have to adapt the lyrics a little to make them fit for church, but the refrain goes, “Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble/ When you’re perfect in every way. / I can’t wait to look in the mirror / Cause I get better lookin’ each day. / To know me is to love me. / I must be a [heck] of a man. / Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble/ But I’m doin’ the best that I can.”  The someone I thought of isn’t really that bad, but it does bear some resemblance at times, and brings a smile to my face.
    Humility is an often unpracticed and misunderstood virtue.  It sounds good when it’s encouraged by Tim McGraw in his song, “Humble and Kind,” but then we get busy with daily life, and we default to "My Way” by Frank Sinatra.  
    Often times we think of humility as putting ourselves down.  We may think we need to pretend that we’re not good at something, or don’t have particular gifts.  But that is not humility.  Humility is the acknowledgment of the truth, not the hiding of truth.  Romano Guardini, a great German Catholic author form the mid-twentieth century, wrote that St. Francis of Assisi kneeling before the pope was not an act of humility, but of honesty.  But St. Francis kissing the leper because he saw Christ in that leper was a great act of humility.
    Humility is also not puffing ourselves up, or lording who we are or what gifts we have over others.  When we think about bragging, we don’t think of that as an example of humility, and rightly so.  We sometimes also use the word arrogant as an antonym of humility.  
    Getting back to music, pride, another opposite vice to humility, is precisely expressed in the song, “My Way.”  Pride is a turning in on oneself, an elevation of the ego, an exaltation of one’s personal desires and wants over that of others.  Pride considers others, but only inasmuch as they promote the self or advance the desires of oneself.  Others exist only as pawns to be used.  Rarely does a person operate solely out of pride; we often do think of others, not just as they help us or provide for what we want, but also because they are good and we want to affirm that goodness.  But you often don’t have to dig far to find pride lurking around the corner, or coloring what can even look like selfless generosity.
    We might try to excuse pride by saying that it allows us to get things done.  Jesus taught us today that the meek (a synonym for the humble) will inherit the earth.  But we don’t usually see that.  Those who inherit the earth–power, prestige, land, etc.–are those who seek their own plans, who make sure that they rise to the top, even if it means climbing over others.  Those who do it their way seem to get their way more often than not, while the humble and kind are left behind with the scraps and to pick-up the pieces.  
    So how can we understand humility?  How can we understand meekness?  We have to examine things not from an earthly point of view, but from a heavenly one.  We need not look with the shortsighted vision of a decade, a century, or even a millennium, but with the view of life that never ends.  If all we do is work for ourselves, elevate ourselves, hold on to ourselves, then what happens when the self falls away at death?  Sure, we may have some lasting legacy of buildings constructed or other groups or peoples conquered, but what good is that when we’re standing naked before the throne of God?  When God judges us, as He will for all of us, what remains is what was rooted in God, not what was rooted merely in us.  That is why St. John of the Cross can say that, at the end of our lives, we will be judged on our love.  We will be judged on whether or not we participated in God, because all that is connected to God will last, because God is infinite.  While all that is simply earthly will pass away, because we, and everything connected to earthly existence, is finite.  
    True happiness, beatitude, we might say, is putting things in right order, with God first, others second, and consideration of ourselves and our desires last.  That is true humility, when we don’t seek to have the universe revolve around us, but to participate in the reality which God has set before us.  We can practice true humility by not considering ourselves first when making a decision, but taking our desires and considerations to God, and then thinking how those desires, considerations, and choices will affect the people around us.  Sometimes we may have to make decisions that help us get ahead in life–maybe get a better job or enjoy certain benefits–but are we doing things only for our own good, or to help contribute to the good of others and the building up of society, not to mention, is it what we understand God’s will to be.  
    Because of our fallen nature, which seeks its own good first, rather than God’s will and the good of others, it can be hard to be humble.  But can we commit to doing our best to be part of God’s plan and support others, rather than putting ourselves first and making others pawns in the games that we’re playing?  Can we do our best to be humble and kind?

Needing Jesus

 Solemnity of St. Matthew
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  You all are probably aware that I’m a big fan of country music.  And I would argue that the first couple of country music right now are Tim McGraw and Faith Hill.  In 2007 they released a song together called, “I Need You.”  And the refrain goes, “So I need you. // Like a needle needs a vein / Like my Uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs the rain / I need you. / Like a lighthouse on the coast /…I need you.”

    Do we need Jesus?  As we celebrate our parish patron, that is the question that our Lord asks of us today, and which St. Matthew exemplifies.  What was it that made Matthew drop everything to follow Christ?  What allowed Matthew to put on a dinner in his home for our Lord?  He realized that He needed Jesus.
    No doubt, St. Matthew had tried to fill up his life with other things.  He was a tax collector for an occupying government, which probably meant that he didn’t have a lot of Jewish friends, at least not the kind that went to synagogue.  Perhaps Matthew thought that, as long as he had to be under an oppressive government, he would at least get a little ahead by working for them.  Recall, too, that tax collectors generally made their money from charging more than the taxes, so they could pocket the difference.  But that money did not satisfy him fully.
    We don’t know if St. Matthew was married, but, by tradition, only John was unmarried.  Let’s hope that Matthew had a happy marriage, maybe even had a few kids.  But he knew that even those goods of family life could not fully satisfy him.
    Matthew was a man in need of a savior.  He knew it, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what would satisfy that need until our Lord came and called him.  But once Christ did call Matthew, everything was changed, and Matthew had to leave behind everything else and follow our Lord.
    Christ said today that He did not come to call the just, but sinners.  What is it about the just that tends to leave them outside the call of Christ?  They don’t feel they need Him.  Does that mean that Christ did not come for the holy?  How can one be holy without God’s help?  Those who are convinced of their own righteousness do not look for a savior, because they feel they have saved themselves by their own good deeds.  Those who are models of holiness, the saints, always recognized their need for God, and that they could not be holy without Him.  They mourned even their venial sins because they recognized how even those small sins hurt God.  The saints knew throughout their lives that they needed a savior, even as they advanced in their relationship with God.  
    The fulfillment of the realization that Matthew needed a savior was so powerful that Matthew wrote a Gospel about the God-Man who changed his life by a simple call.  He wrote down the stories that we have learned from childhood: the visit of the Magi; the Sermon on the Mount; the call of St. Peter to be the first pope; part of the words of Institution in the Mass; the great commission to “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”  He organized his account of the Gospel in a way that people would see in the Lord the fulfillment of the promise of Moses that God would raise up another prophet, to whom the Chosen People needed to listen.  Indeed, it seems to be divided into five parts, just like the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Tanakh, the Jewish scriptures.
    That fulfillment that St. Matthew found also made his passion and martyrdom worth the price.  Nothing was more precious than the gift of a savior that Matthew had found in our Lord.  Everything else, to use the words of his fellow apostle, Saint Paul, was as rubbish when compared with the treasure Matthew had found in Christ.  
    So, do we need a savior?  No matter what our virtues or the ways we say yes to God, do we still recognize that we need Him?  Do we still cry out to Him for mercy that justifies us, that puts us in right relationship with God?  Or do we feel like we can handle things on our own without God?  
    Do our hearts still yearn for a deeper relationship with God to fill the holes in our hearts that no material goods can satisfy?  When our Lord calls us in our custom’s post, are we ready to respond because we know we need Him?  
    And as we find that fulfillment, do we then respond by sharing that good news, that evangelium, with others?  Is the joy in our heart from knowing Christ so great that we can’t help but share it with those we meet?  Or do we keep our light under a bushel basket, and allow our salt to grow tepid?  Would we be willing to give up our lives for our Lord, or do we serve other lesser gods in our life?  Do we need Jesus?  If so, then together, as a parish, let us follow Him, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit reign, unto the ages of the ages.  Amen. 

Humble and Kind

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

As I think I mentioned in a bulletin article, my favorite music is country music.  This past Thursday I had a chance to go to the Tim McGraw concert in Lansing at Common Ground with Fr. Brian Lenz, one of the newest priests of the Diocese of Lansing.  One of his recent big hits is “Humble and Kind.”  Some of the lyrics are: “Go to church ‘cause your momma says to” [one of my favorites], “always stay humble and kind.//  Hold the door, say please, say thank you/ Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie/…Always stay humble and kind…When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you/ When the work you put in is realized/ Let yourself feel the pride but/ Always stay humble and kind.//  Don’t expect a free ride from no one/ Don’t hold a grudge or a chip and here’s why/ Bitterness keeps you from flyin’/ Always stay humble and kind.”

It strikes me as a sign of the times that an artist has to sing about holding the door, saying please and thank you, not stealing, cheating, or lying, and the rest.  These were things many of us, if not all of us, learned as children.  Somewhere, though, it stopped being taught, or maybe was just ignored.  And many of the problems we have in the world today could be solved by following these simple pieces of advice.

In our first reading today, Moses tells the people that the Law that God has given them is not overly complicated.  In fact, it is already in the hearts of the people.  They don’t have to go to extreme lengths to get the Law.  God has shared it with His People as a way that they can be fully alive in Him.

The scholar of the law in today’s Gospel tried to trick Jesus by asking him how to get to heaven.  The scholar must have figured this young man (Jesus was likely only 32 or 33 at this point, a fine age to be, I might add) wouldn’t know what to say.  But Jesus asks him about the Law that was supposed to be written in his heart.  The scholar replies with the second half of the Shema, the great profession of faith of Israel: “Hear O Israel: the Lord is God; the Lord is one.  Therefore you shall love the Lord, your God…” and we hear the rest of it today.  The scholar then also quotes the Book of Leviticus, as he says that we need to love our neighbor as ourselves.  But then Luke adds that the scholar was not humble, but wanted to show off his mental skills, so he asks Jesus, “‘And who is my neighbor?’”  

When we hear the story of the Good Samaritan (which is a parable, not an actual occurrence), we get the point quite quickly.  Of course the person is supposed to help the dying man on the road.  Of course you would help a dying man get to a place where he could be healed.  Though, I wonder how many of us would offer to pay a man’s hospital bills if he was taken to a hospital.  I’m not sure I would.

When we hear this, it does seem like common sense (which is not that common these days).  But how often do we do these things?  We have lots of reasons not to help people these days: times are tough; I have my own problems; everyone has a cell phone and can call for help themselves; there are some dangerous people out there who pose as people in distress to try to hurt others.  The list goes on an on.  Even I struggle to live this out.  About a month ago, I was on my way to Adrian from Lansing, and there was a bad accident on southbound 127 around Mason.  As a priest, I can often gain access to a scene to see if anyone needs a priest or a person to pray with them, whether the victim or the first responders.  But that day I was tired, and while I slowed down, and the thought entered my mind, especially since I was, at the time, a Fire Department Chaplain, I drove by.  All the rest of the way to Adrian I knew I should have stopped.  Odds are that they would have said everything was taken care of.  Odds are that they would have said they didn’t need me.  But I will never know, because I never stopped.

Certainly we need to know the dangers of a situation, and sometimes we are not equipped to actually help the situation.  But when we are, do we stop?  Do we help a neighbor in need?  It doesn’t have to be on the road.  Maybe it’s an elderly neighbor who could use a ride to church, or could simply use a visit.  Maybe it’s a family that could use help with their lawn.  Whatever it is, Jesus today invites us to live by the law that is in our hearts.  

Tim McGraw isn’t Jesus; Tim’s words do not save.  But the lyrics I quoted are examples that are based in the Word of God, and will help us to live as disciples.  “Hold the door, say please, say thank you/ Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie/…Always stay humble and kind…”