|

Jesus
and Our Fears
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Readings for the 12th Sunday in Ordinary
Time
Reading 1: Jer. 20:10–13 |
Responsorial Psalm: Ps. 69:8–10, 14, 17, 33–35 |
Reading 2: Rom. 5:12–15 |
Gospel: Mt. 10:26–33 |
Link
to Readings |
By Father Roger Landry
There’s a paradox in today’s
Gospel. On the one hand, Jesus tells us not to be afraid,
because our Father in heaven loves us more than all the sparrows
in the world and knows us intimately down to our last strand
of hair. Fifteen times in the Gospel, in fact, Jesus tells
us not to be afraid, and almost every time He returns to the
reason not to fear, because our Father in heaven will provide
for us and protect us. In the Sermon on the Mount, He tells
us not to worry about what we will eat or drink or wear—things
we really need—because that same Father who clothes
the lilies of the field knows what we need and will take care
of us (Mt. 6:28–32). He tells us today that He doesn’t
even want us to fear suffering and physical death, because
not even death can separate us from our Father’s love
(Rom. 8:38–39).
But at the same time, He says that there’s one fear
we should have: “Do not fear those who kill the body
but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy
both soul and body in hell.” This being who seeks to
DESTROY us in hell is the devil. Out of love for us, Jesus
tells us, very directly, that the devil exists, that he seeks
to kill us, and that we should therefore have a healthy fear
of him. The great Scottish apologist George MacDonald said,
“As long as there are wild beasts around, it is much
better to feel fear than to feel secure!” And St. Peter
compares the devil to this type of wild beast: “Your
adversary, the devil, is prowling the world like a roaring
lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). That
someone he longs to consume is you and me.
Arsenal of Divine Aid
I mentioned that Jesus wants us to have a healthy fear of
the evil one, which involves two elements:
First, we need to know how the devil seeks
to attack us. The devil has no power over us unless we give
him that power. He cannot kill our soul unless we become
his accomplices and allow our souls to be killed through
mortal (deadly) sin, which separates our souls from the
source of life, who is God. The way the “Father of
lies” (Jn. 8:44) seeks to accomplish this assisted
suicide is by getting us to succumb to one of his lies,
just as he did with Eve and Adam in the Garden (Gen. 3).
A healthy fear of the devil involves no paranoia, but a
sane vigilance against his lies and against all his temptations
to induce us to sin.
Second, once we know that and how he’s
out to get us, we have to know what the remedy is to defeat
his attempt to defeat us forever. That remedy is a deep
trust in God that expresses itself in saying “yes”
to God in everything. The evil one got Adam and Eve to sin
first by getting them to distrust God and His promises and
then to do what God told them not to do; therefore, the
antidote to the devil’s machinations is to accentuate
the opposite of what the devil wants to achieve. In other
words, if our best defense is a good offense, we need to
trust in God and seek to do His will in all things. We see
these principles at work in Jesus’ confrontation with
the devil at the end of his forty days in the desert. To
each of the devil’s three assaults, Jesus responded
with trust in God His Father, living on His word more than
on bread alone, and worshipping and serving Him alone and
not presumptuously putting Him to the test (Mt. 4:1–11).
Jesus tells each of us, in this as in other things, “follow
me!” If we trust in the Father enough to say “yes”
to Him and “no” to the devil, to base our lives
on the Truth Incarnate (Jn. 14:6) rather than on the “father
of lies,” then we don’t need to fear the devil
any more than Jesus did. Jesus is the “stronger man”
whom He tells us in St. Luke’s Gospel has “attacked
and overpowered” the devil, “taken away his
armor” and “divided his spoils” (Lk. 11:21–22).
If we stick fully with the Lord, that stronger man, if we
love him with all our mind, heart, soul, and strength, then
we have nothing to fear—that’s why Jesus’
statements in the Gospel today are a paradox and not a contradiction.
It’s only when we are not totally God’s that
we have to fear, as Jesus tells us, because the devil is
constantly at the gate waiting for us to echo his “no”
to God so that he might seduce us away from God for all
eternity.
Since each of us has proven vulnerable to the devil’s
salvos in the past, it’s obvious that Jesus was speaking
to us in today’s Gospel. In creating us free, God left
open the possibility that we might choose against Him, as
Satan and the demons did in heaven, as Adam and Eve did in
Eden, as the multitudes did in preferring Barabbas to Christ
in Pilate’s courtyard, as we have done whenever we’ve
sinned. Our hearts, our souls, our lives, therefore, are a
cosmic battleground between good and evil—between loving
God and others freely in the truth (Jn. 8:32) and adoring
false gods of the devil’s and our own making.
The outcome of that battle depends on our choices. Jesus
has already won the cosmic war, but the devil is still trying
to amass as many casualties as he can, and he wants us, and
our loved ones, and our friends, and those around us, on the
list of casualties. To combat the evil one’s plans for
as many victories in particular battles as possible, Jesus
has obviously enlisted the angels and archangels, and has
stock-piled, in Scripture and sacraments, a powerful arsenal
of divine aid. But His special forces for this mission to
defeat the devil may surprise you, for they are the very ones
the devil is after: US! Despite our weaknesses, despite the
many times we’ve gone over to the other side, Jesus
wants to give us the joy of participating in His own victory
over the devil and in helping Him to keep us and all those
around us off that casualty list.
“Follow Me!”
We could spend time discussing how the devil tries to win
individual battles with particular men and women. He tries
to find a particular vulnerability—whether it be pride,
or greed, or lust, or comfort-seeking, or a desire for control—and
manipulate it to get us to distrust God and choose against
Him. There are as many examples as there are people. What
I would like to focus on, rather, is the devil’s global
strategy with all of us, which is directly opposed to God’s
plans for us. God’s plans for us in response to His
gift of salvation involves two simple and related elements:
DISCIPLESHIP and APOSTOLATE, our personal holiness and fidelity
on the one hand, and our becoming God’s instruments
to bring others to holiness and fidelity on the other. The
devil’s strategy involves trying to oppose these two
elements, either by getting us not to pay sufficient attention
to them, or by trying to frighten us away from acting on them.
Let’s look at what he does in greater detail with respect
to each:
Personal holiness. The only way for us
to share eternally in Jesus’ victory is for us to
become a saint, because only saints are in heaven. Several
times in the Old Testament, God said, “Be holy, for
I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Lev. 11:44; 19:2;
20:7; 21:8). Jesus told us the same thing in other words
when He said, “Be perfect as your heavenly Father
is perfect” (Mt. 5:48) and “love one another
as I have loved you” (Jn. 13:34; 15:12). To keep us
from heaven, the devil wants to keep us from becoming holy,
from becoming a saint. With some of us, he tries to accomplish
this by convincing us that we don’t really have to
be HOLY; we just have to be GOOD. We don’t have to
strive to get an A with the gift of life God has given us;
we just have to “do the best we can” and get
a D-, because that’s all one needs to graduate to
heaven. But we all know what happens when students try to
get Ds: many times they fail, and that’s what the
devil is counting on.
The second way the devil tries to convince us not to strive
for sanctity is by making us fear the consequences of sanctity.
He tries to persuade us that if we strive for sanctity we’ll
lose our friends, we’ll lose our freedom, we’ll
lose even our own personality and identity. Our Holy Father,
Pope Benedict, spoke to this fear in his inaugural homily.
He, like his predecessor, told us not to be afraid and not
to give in to the devil’s lies: “Are we not
perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully
into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to Him, are
we not afraid that He might take something away from us?
Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something significant,
something unique, something that makes life so beautiful?
Do we not then risk ending up diminished and deprived of
our freedom? . . . No! If we let Christ into our lives,
we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes
life free, beautiful and great. No! Only in this friendship
are the doors of life opened wide. Only in this friendship
is the great potential of human existence truly revealed.
Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and liberation.”
Our new vicar of Christ concludes with a powerful personal
appeal: “And so, today, with great strength and great
conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of
life, I say to you: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes
nothing away, and He gives you everything. When we give
ourselves to Him, we receive a hundredfold in return. Yes,
open, open wide the doors to Christ—and you will find
true life.” That life, that friendship with Christ,
is holiness, and it will be ours, as long as we don’t
fear it or take it for granted!
Bringing others to holiness. If we are
to love others as Christ has loved us, then this necessarily
involves sharing the Gospel with others just as Jesus did
with us. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us, “What
I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you
hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.” Our
salvation, and others’, depends on our doing so. Jesus
tells us that much in the Gospel: “Everyone who acknowledges
me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father
in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will
deny before my Father in heaven.” The devil wants
to do whatever he can to get us not to acknowledge Jesus
before others, so that Jesus will deny us before His Father.
He does this, again, in two ways:
He gets many of us not to take our duty to evangelize
seriously by convincing us that it’s not our mission
to announce the Gospel, but maybe priests’ and nuns’,
or catechists’, or some other group of specialists’.
He persuades us to think that all we have to do is be
good and to mind our own business, to concern ourselves
with our own relationship with God, not with others’.
He gets us to believe that to announce the Gospel to others
is to “impose” something on others against
their freedom and dignity, rather than to “rescue”
them from a possible shipwreck.
The second means the devil employs is to frighten us
away from proclaiming the Gospel. He gets us to fear that
we don’t know the faith well enough to pass it on,
and will embarrass ourselves, God, and the Church if we
try. Or he successfully persuades us to think that our
friends and family will think us hypocrites if we start
to proclaim the Gospel now. Or he tries to intimidate
us, by getting us to fear that if we bring the Gospel
to the public square, we’ll suffer for it; others
will call us intolerant, or bigots, or even do to us what
they did to Jeremiah and the prophets, John the Baptist,
Jesus Christ, and the apostles and martyrs. This fear,
of course, is justified: if we preach the Gospel, we will
suffer for it, as those before us have. That’s why
Jesus tells us—as He told His first followers—not
to fear those who can only kill the body, but not the
soul. He wants to fill us with His courage. Courage is
not the absence of fear, but the capacity to do the right
thing despite our fears. We have no greater example in
this than the Lord Himself, who in the garden prayed that
the cup of suffering might be taken away from Him, but
finished His prayer by entrusting Himself once again to
His Father, saying, “Not my will, but thine be done”
(Lk. 22:42). In this, as in everything, He says, “Follow
me!”
Defeating the Devil
To defeat the devil, the greatest help we have in the whole
world is the Eucharist, in which we receive Jesus Christ,
the conqueror of sin and death, the vanquisher of the devil,
within us. Jesus in the Eucharist is the greatest source of
holiness and the greatest cause of living and spreading the
Gospel of love. The devil hates the Eucharist, and tries to
do whatever he can to keep us away from the Eucharist. He
tries first to keep us away from Mass and Eucharistic adoration,
but if he can’t, he tries to get us to receive Him sacrilegiously;
and if he can’t get us to receive Him in a state of
sin, he at least tries to get us to receive Him in a routine
way, so that we won’t allow Jesus to change our lives,
as Jesus wants to do from the inside every time we receive
Him with love. The best way, therefore, to be equipped to
withstand the devil’s onslaught is to respond to God’s
help to receive the Lord with ever-greater fervor and respond
to Him with ever-greater zeal and fidelity. Each time we receive
Jesus well in the Eucharist, we share in His victory over
the devil and are strengthened with courage to carry that
victory out to others. As we prepare to receive Him now, on
this Father’s day weekend, we ask for His help that
we, like Him, might trust His Father—our Father in heaven!—in
all things, and with Him defeat the wicked “father of
lies” once and for all.
Father Roger J. Landry is pastor of St. Anthony
of Padua Parish in New Bedford, MA and Executive Editor of
The Anchor, the weekly newspaper of the Diocese of
Fall River. An archive of his homilies and articles is found
at catholicpreaching.com.
This is adapted from one of Fr. Landry’s recent
homilies.
Back
to Homily Archive
Help us continue to provide great homilies.
Click
here to donate today.
|
|
|
From Our Founder
How different the holy Church would be this very day if, years ago, we had
been filled with a spirit of humility and compunction, of patience and ready
obedience, with the spirit of the Publican, who stood afar off, not
venturing to raise his eyes to heaven, but only saying, “Lord, be merciful
to me, a sinner” (Lk. 18:13). Or if, like St. Paul, we had begun by saying,
from the bottom of our hearts, “Lord, what would you have me do?” Or if,
like St. Catherine of Siena, we had been able to cry: “Thanks be to Thee,
Eternal Father! . . . I was sick and you gave me . . . a medicine against a
secret infirmity that I knew not of, in this precept that in no way can I
judge any rational creature, and particularly Thy servants, upon whom oft
times I, as one blind and sick with this infirmity, passed judgment under
the pretext of Thy honor and the salvation of souls.”
H. Lyman Stebbins
March 1987
|
|
 |
 |
 |
|