The common theme in our readings this weekend seems to be the way God reads the hearts of men and women, how he identifies and values humility, justice and personal righteousness. Now, righteousness is innocence and purity before God, the absence of guilt – something those of us who live in constant temptation and cycles of sin and repentance cannot imagine. Perfection in righteousness is practically impossible without the grace of God, but it is our ideal. This is as important today for the Catholic as it was centuries ago for the Jewish sage who wrote these lines in the book of Ecclesiasticus/Sirach…
“In His own measure God’s gift repay; grudge thou must not what afford thou canst; the Lord is a good Master, and thou shalt have sevenfold in return. But think not to bribe His justice; He will have none of thy bribery. Never pin thy hopes on the power of wealth ill-gotten; the Lord is a true Judge, not swayed by partiality, and thou canst not win Him to take thy part against the friendless, turn Him deaf to the plea of the wronged. Prayer of the orphan, eloquent sigh of the widow, He will not disregard; see the tears on yonder widow’s cheeks, that accuse the author of her misery! From her cheeks they rise to heaven, where all prayers are heard, a grievous sight. None but His true worshippers He makes welcome; for their supplication the clouds give passage.”
Ecclesiasticus 35: 12-20 [link]
Purity before God is why the Church has preserved her ancient Sacrament of reconciliation, which replaces and renews the rites of reconciliation and atonement that Moses had established through the tabernacle/temple sacrificial system. In the Old Testament as in the New, purity and blamelessness before God results from the humble approach of the human soul to the Creator God, and it produces justice. In so far as the people draw near to God, they are able to show charity both to Him and to the people round about.
And that brings about justice and balance within society. In the best circumstances. Human society however, even in its simplest forms, becomes very stratified. There are classes within it, based on heredity, wealth, and in the past even perceived degrees of holiness. I say perceived because we can posture as much as we like, but only God can read our hearts and discern our true motives. As the first reading says, He is no respecter of personages, cares not for our ideas of social status, and will support the cause of the lowly man, the widow and the orphan, all of whom are the easy victims of injustices.
From these ancient wisdom texts of the Hebrews, such as Ecclesiasticus/Sirach, the Church has derived and traditionally set forth sins that ‘cry out to heaven for vengeance,’ which include murder and sexual violence, and also condemn the oppression of the poorest in society and the defrauding of labourers. The psalm we have this weekend [Psalm 33(34)] is even more outspoken about those who oppose the justice of God’s Law to cause distress to those who they see as beneath them, and how God upholds the victims. When we speak about the poor in these lines, we’re not only speaking of the poor in pocket, but all those who are bullied and victimised by the powerful. This poor man called, and the Lord heard him. And that brings us to the religious oppressor of the gospel story, and the apparent reason Christian society learned to condemn what we call ‘pharisaism.’
“There were some who had confidence in themselves, thinking they had won acceptance with God, and despised the rest of the world; to them He addressed this other parable: ‘Two men went up into the temple to pray; one was a Pharisee, the other a publican. The Pharisee stood upright, and made this prayer in his heart, I thank thee, God, that I am not like the rest of men, who steal and cheat and commit adultery, or like this publican here; for myself, I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess. And the publican stood far off; he would not even lift up his eyes towards heaven; he only beat his breast, and said, God, be merciful to me; I am a sinner. I tell you, this man went back home higher in God’s favour than the other; everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled, and the man who humbles himself shall be exalted.”
Gospel of S. Luke, 18: 9-14 [link]
The pharisees were not all bad – they simply sought ritual purity, like the best of us – but also like some of us they were occasionally holier-than-thou, as in this parable, and condemned people who could not obey the precepts of the Law of Moses as well as they could. The tax-collector of the story is a public sinner, as the pharisee is a public holy-man, so this is also about superficiality, for the tax-collector here is (in his humility) actually the more honest man and the pharisee rather despicable – and Christ indicates that He could easily condemn the heart of the proud holy-man.
The only approach to God is then utter humility, and that includes a moderate (if not bad) appreciation of our own religious offering, even if it is given (in the words of Ecclesiasticus) with our whole heart, ungrudging. We bring what we can to the holy table at Mass, knowing that even that is insufficient, and that we honestly could have done better. That is not a hopeless attitude, because it has inspired centuries of saintly men and women to push forward even harder, to perfect their offering, their humble prayers (again in the words of Sirach) piercing the clouds of heaven.
We can never be religiously smug, like the bad pharisee of the gospel story, ticking away the sins we have not committed, in order to tell the Holy One that we are best of men and women, for we are in this way attempting to tell Him Who reads our hearts that we are good Jews, or good Christians, as the case may be. There is a similar gospel story to this in which a rich, young man tells our Lord that he has kept all the commandments of God (and so must be a good Jew), and Christ replies by calling him to greater perfection by giving away his vast wealth to the poor and joining the company of the disciples. And the rich young man walks away, sadly.
Let us not walk away, but ask the Holy Spirit of God to increase our generosity beyond a bare minimum, to give and to give without counting the cost, and giving God the glory for it. S. Paul tells us something in our second reading this weekend about fighting the good fight, keeping the faith until the end, pursuing righteousness, and finding our fulfilment not in ourselves but in God.
“As for me, my blood already flows in sacrifice; the time has nearly come when I can go free. I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have redeemed my pledge; I look forward to the prize that is waiting for me, the prize I have earned. The Lord, the judge whose award never goes amiss, will grant it to me when that day comes; to me, yes, and all those who have learned to welcome His appearing…”
Second letter of S. Paul to S. Timothy, 4: 6-8 [link]
Catholic Louth and Mablethorpe 