Weekly Reflection

In the face of the Church’s call to mission and evangelism, what do you think is the most effective way for Christians to spread their faith among others? Should we use all the techniques of advertising to persuade people that what we believe is worth sharing? Advertising is useful, but the problem is that the world is tired of hearing more and more words which often seem to have nothing behind them. When a group of very enthusiastic and wealthy Christian industrialists asked an expert on evangelisation what was the most effective evangelical strategy today, he gave a disconcerting answer. He said that empirical research showed the answer is martyrdom. After a long pause, one of the industrialists finally asked, “Can you tell us what the second most effective strategy might be?” It is not surprising that we look for an easier answer when the first answer may involve dying for our faith. We play down a central teaching of Christianity, which is the need to back up our words with actions – this is what Jesus means when He tells us to take up His cross and follow Him.

Today Jesus is dealing with another central teaching of the Gospel, which always appears in the readings as we come to the end of the liturgical year. It is about the end of the world. The scriptures teach that just as God created the world in the beginning, so God will bring it to its final consummation when Jesus returns in glory. The old order will give way to the new, but there will be upheavals and catastrophes before this takes place. This is what people fear; and so they play it down and put it at the back of their minds. Jesus does not give a date for the destruction of Jerusalem and the old Temple, but we know that it was indeed destroyed by Romans in AD 70. Yet that destruction did not trigger off the events of the end of the world as some feared. Jesus tells us that many other events will have to take place in the course of history before the end. We may find His talk of wars and revolutions, famines and plagues rather difficult, but in fact if we look round our own world such apocalyptic events abound. Jesus tells us not to be frightened by these events but rather to have confidence that in the end God will bring us through them and be victorious. He tells: “Your endurance will win you your lives.”

In the history of the Church, Christians have drawn strength from these words of Jesus. From St. Stephen onwards men and women have given the witness of their lives as martyrs. And persecution contuniues today. In many countries around the world, especially in parts of Africa, Asia and in the Middle East, Christians are not free to worship without harrasment. Since the turn of the millennium about 200 milion Christians are now under threat. Even in countries where Christianity is not persecuted there are opportunities to give witness when Gospel values are questioned. It may be on questions of marriage, respect for life, or justice and peace, but it takes courage to take a stand against the prevailing consensus. Jesus reminds us this Sunday that as we wait for the end in the midst of natural and social disasters we are called to have confidence in His final victory.

Zacchaeus’ great gift is not that he has led a disciplined life of prayer and goodness; he has become thoroughly sucked in to a life of wealth and position, even at the cost of marginalizing himself from his own people. His great gift is simply the desire he has to see Jesus. Not only does he want to see Jesus, but he is prepared to do whatever it takes to see Him – to find a space above the crowd, whatever the indignity of his action. Through hospitality with the Lord, Zacchaeus is changed – and his life emptied of some of what was holding him back from God’s love for him.

We live in a world that is not only unprecedentedly busy and filled with activity, but one that also prizes these things. Multitasking, working long hours, filling our schedules with activities – all these things are not only normal for many people, but things that are aspired to. The challenge is whether we can stop what we’re doing long enough to find a way of putting ourselves in a more spacious place, a place where we can see the Lord and He can look directly at us.

In today’s Gospel, two men go up to the Temple. One asks for something, the other doesn’t ask for anything. If you look at what the Pharisee is actually saying, he isn’t asking for anything, he is just telling God what God already knows. His description of himself is very superficial. Firstly he describes himself in terms what he is not: “I am not grasping, unjust, adulterous like the rest of mankind.” When he does speak about himself, it is about what he does – fasting, tithing – not about what he is. In both ways, he fails to touch his own reality. He is not in fact praying to God but to himself, as Jesus says. The tax collector is the one who is praying to God, and because he is in the presence of God, he asks for something. He asks for mercy. Strangely he is more self-absorbed that the Pharisee. The Pharisee is distracted from thinking about himself, being too busy noticing everybody else’s sin. The tax collector simply talks about his own sinfulness.

We are called to prayer, then, and prayer is not difficult. It is not difficult; but it may be impossible. The Pharisee does not pray because he does not consider himself. This is why mediaval writers often spoke of prayer in terms of a mirror. We see something of ourselves in prayer. We see our sins, in part, but we also see the mercy of God, which is always greater than our sins. This is more than a matter of feelings. It is not a feeling but a conviction. A conviction that whatever sins we commit, God is never short of mercy, and God’s mercy not only forgives our sins, but gathers them into God’s purpose in founding the kingdom.

Some may see a contradiction in praying to a God you have just put on trial, but, in fact, this is in line with the Jewish tradition of being completely devoted to God while feeling totally frustrated by God’s silence and inaction. The Psalms are full of such questions: “How long, O Lord?”; “Why have You forgotten me?”; “Why are You so distant?”; “My God, why have You forsaken me?” God simply tells Habakkuk: Wait, trust, keep faith – “the upright man will live by his faithfulness.” Today’s Gospel echoes the call to remain faithful. This section of St. Luke’s Gospel deals with the challenging demands of discipleship. Jesus calls His disciples to be people of faith – He says that even a small amount of faith is enough to work miracles, to achieve great things. The next passage in St. Luke’s Gospel tells the story of Jesus curing 10 lepers, of whom only one came back to thank Jesus. Jesus invites the disciples to see themselves as that leper – people who have been healed, reconciled, gifted by God’s love. If they remember who God is – and what God has done for them – then they too will wish to give God thanks.

Today’s Gospel speaks of the obedience that is only proper response to God’s love. If we look for reward, if our motive in serving God is self-serving, then we miss the point. The Holocaust survivor, Viktor Franks, suggested that if we live our lives in the pursuit of our own happiness, then it will elude us. He said that we can only find happiness by forgetting about it and by dedicating our lives to a cause greater than ourselves. This make sense for Christians. We don’t serve God out of fear, or stale duty, or even hope of heaven, but rather, because we know – we remember – what the Lord has done for us. Even when life makes us wonder if God is listening at all, even when we feel overwhelmed, we cling to our faith, because it is rooted in God’s prior faithfulness and graciousness to us. Remembering this is what enables us to live by faith, even in the face of the apparent silence or absence of God. It is such faith that moves mountains, uproots mulberry trees and enables men and women to pray, even in the hell of Auschwitz.

In the Gospel parable today, Jesus shows how in the reign of God there is a reversal of what we might be used to. The kingdom of God is an upside-down kingdom. In our world, who is recognized by name? The rich and powerful. Well, in the parable, the rich man has no name – Dives, the name traditionally given him, simply means “rich”. The poor man has a name: Lazarus. In the parable, the rich man – because he knew the name of Lazarus – obviously knew Lazarus was present at his doorstep, but he went right by him on a daily basis, never paying any attention. After their death we see Lazarus, the poor man, described as being in place of honor in heaven. The rich man is not even present at that banquet. This shows how God has a preferential love for poor and vulnerable people. It’s those who are poor who are valued and cherished the most.

If we take this message seriously we will no longer walk past a homeless person or beggar in the street. Yet the parable prompts deeper reflection. There is something dramatically wrong in situation where the rich have everything and the poor are like Lazarus – dying of starvation and at the mercy of the elements. We are being taught to see structural social injustice as sin and to take on responsibility for it. Could it be that you and I are living with Lazarus in our midst and we do not even perceive it as sinful? Look at the situation of our world. 1/5 of the world’s people are like Lazarus at our door, in absolute poverty and starving – 30,000 children dying every day from hunger or hunger-related causes. The Gospel highlights this distance between rich and poor people and communities, which continues in our own time. 1/3 of the world’s population owns almost everything, leaving the other 2/3 to suffer. Jesus warns us to do something about it. Was Abraham right when he said that we would not listen? We can learn from what the prophet Amos says in the first reading today. It isn’t wrong to have material things, but it is wrong to live a lifestyle completely focused on self. We are called to engage ourselves in action for justice, participating in that transformation of the world, picking up on the rich heritage of the Church’s social teachings. Let us reflect on St. Paul’s instruction to Timothy in the second reading today: “You must aim to be saintly and religious, filled with faith and love, patient and gentle.” Let us too aim to live that life that we received at baptism – a life that calls us to pursue justice, compassion and love.