How to Make the Pharisee’s Prayer Acceptable to the Lord

 

Icon of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector

(Thirtieth Sunday of the Year (C): This homily was given on October 26, 2025 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Luke 18: 9-14.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Thirtieth Sunday 2025]

I think we need to help the Pharisee with his prayer.

In its present form, it’s obviously not acceptable to Jesus.  Our Lord makes that clear at the end of the parable when he says, “I tell you the [tax collector] went home justified, not the [Pharisee].”

But I think his prayer could be made acceptable—or at least a lot more acceptable—with a few modifications (presuming, of course, that these modifications were made sincerely by the Pharisee himself!).

The original prayer read as follows: “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity—greedy, dishonest, adulterous—or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.”

Here now is the modified version: “O God, I thank you for the grace you have given me to avoid certain sins like greed and dishonesty and adultery—since without this grace it would be impossible for me to avoid these or any other sins in my life.  But, unfortunately, I am prideful and arrogant and condescending, and I really don’t think I need you very much.  So God, please be merciful to me, a sinner.” 

That prayer would have been much more acceptable to God for the simple reason that it would have been rooted in self-knowledge and in truth!  Perhaps this Pharisee had actually been able to resist greed and adultery and many other sins over the years.  That’s great!  But he was not able to stay away from those things by his own grace and power (which is what his original prayer indicated that he believed!).  Rather, it was by the grace of God that he was able to avoid all those evils and act righteously.  And so it is with us.  This is why whenever we see somebody doing something sinful that we don’t presently do (or perhaps have never done), we should say, “There but for the grace of God go I.”

We should say that because it’s true!

If it was not for the grace of God we would be just as bad—or worse!

But even if we have, by the Lord’s grace, been able to avoid some sins, we certainly have not been able to avoid ALL sins—and if we truly know ourselves we will be keenly aware of that fact.

Which only goes to show that this Pharisee did NOT know himself very well!  His original prayer indicated that he had absolutely no sense whatsoever of how prideful and arrogant and condescending he was—which is why that admission had to be present in his modified prayer in order to make it acceptable to God.

Applying this now to ourselves: I think that some Catholics believe that they impress the priest when they go into the confessional and say to him, “Father, I don’t have any sins.”

Believe me, my brothers and sisters, that does not impress the priest!  If anything, it DE-presses him—because a statement like that indicates the penitent really doesn’t know himself (or herself as the case might be)!

We all sin every day—and if we truly know ourselves we will recognize that fact.  We may not be sinning in big ways, but even if we’re only committing little sins of anger and gossip and selfishness every day, the fact is we’re still committing sins that need to be repented of and taken away!

What really impresses me (and I dare say what impresses most priests) is when somebody comes into the confessional who seems to really be in touch with many of the ways that he or she offends God and other people.  THAT’S impressive, because it shows that the person really knows himself or herself (like the tax collector in this parable really knew himself); and because it indicates that the person is humble, and wants to continue on the road to holiness and, ultimately, heaven.

In this regard, I’m glad that today’s second reading from 2 Timothy 4 is paired up with this gospel passage from Luke 18.  Here we have St. Paul, who knows that he’s likely to be martyred in the near future, writing to Timothy about the life he’s led since his conversion experience on the road to Damascus.  He says, “I am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand.  I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.  From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for his appearance.”

Now if we read that passage in isolation, we might get the idea that Paul was a guy who had an exalted opinion of himself, like the Pharisee in this parable had an exalted opinion of himself.

But that’s not the case, as Timothy would certainly tell us.  Paul was not conscious of any serious sin in himself, that’s true; but he was definitely in touch with the fact that he was still a sinner in need of forgiveness, and that whatever goodness was present in him in his post-conversion life was there because of God’s saving grace!  He had already told Timothy as much in a previous letter, when he said, “I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, that he has made me his servant and judged me faithful.  I was once a blasphemer, a persecutor, a man filled with arrogance; but because I did not know what I was doing in my unbelief, I have been treated mercifully, and the grace of our Lord has been granted me in overflowing measure, along with the faith and love which are in Christ Jesus.  You can depend on this as worthy of full acceptance: that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.  Of these I myself am the worst.  But on that very account I was dealt with mercifully, so that in me, as an extreme case, Jesus Christ might display all his patience, and that I might be an example to those who would later have faith in him.”

Paul gives a very similar message in one line of 1 Corinthians 15 when he says, “By the grace of God I am what I am.”

These are not the kinds of things that the Pharisee in this parable would say; these are the kinds of things the humble tax collector would say.

There are two extremes that must always be avoided in this life, my brothers and sisters: we must avoid thinking too much of ourselves (which, of course was the error of the Pharisee); but, at the same time, we must avoid thinking too little of ourselves (which is an error that’s equally as bad, because it can easily lead to despair).

St. Paul had the balance—as did the tax collector in this parable!  The tax collector knew his sins, just like Paul knew his.  But he also believed that God loved him enough to forgive him.  In other words, the tax collector knew he was a sinner, but he also believed that, in God’s eyes, he was worth pardoning!  If he hadn’t believed both those things, he would never have said the prayer that he said. 

You don’t ask for mercy like he did, unless you actually believe that it’s possible for you to receive it.

Maybe all this—maybe all that I’ve said in this homily today—explains why more people don’t go to confession on a regular basis: either they don’t believe they need it because they think they don’t sin, or they believe they’re too far gone and beyond the reach of God’s mercy.

As I hopefully have made clear this morning, both those perspectives are wrong.

St. Paul knew that; the tax collector in this parable knew that.

And hopefully, now, so do we.

 

Reflections on 40 Years of Priestly Service

 

(This homily was given on October 12, 2025 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read 2 Kings 5:14-17; 2 Timothy 2:8-13; Luke 17:11-19.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-eighth Sunday 2025]

The 3 Scripture readings we just heard are being read in Catholic churches today all over the world.  They’re the readings for the Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary time.  But I believe they were also chosen by the Holy Spirit especially for me on this, the 40^th anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood.  I want to begin by thanking the Holy Spirit for doing me that favor.  He made it relatively easy for me to prepare this homily.

The first reading was about Naaman, an army commander in the Syrian army who was afflicted with leprosy, and who came to Elisha the prophet to be healed. But the healing almost didn’t happen.  Elisha told Namaan to go and wash 7 times in the Jordan River and the leprosy would be gone.  Well, Naaman didn’t like that idea—the Jordan wasn’t on his list of the top rivers in the Middle East and so at first he refused to go.  Thank God his servants talked some sense into him, and he eventually went.  And he was very glad he did.  As we heard in that text a few minutes ago, he plunged into the Jordan 7 times, and the leprosy left him.

This is a great story for my anniversary Mass because 37 years ago I was a lot like Naaman.  37 years ago, in September of 1988, when Bishop Gelineau assigned me here at St. Pius, in all honesty I didn’t want to come. I was very happy where I was at St. Francis de Sales Church in North Kingstown.  And besides, St Pius was “all the way down there in Westerly”.  Yes, I have a Rhode Island mentality when comes to distances!  I admit it.  Anything over 10 miles is a major road trip.  One priest friend at the time described Westerly as “exit 1 and then some.”  He had a Rhode Island mentality too!

But it turned out to be the best move of my life!  God has done some incredible things at St Pius in the last 3-plus decades—and I’ve been blessed to be a part of it all.  Bishop Tobin once called St Pius a “spiritual powerhouse” in the Diocese of Providence.  To me there’s no greater compliment that a Bishop can give to a parish.  This really came home to me in a powerful way several years ago on a Sunday afternoon.  I was standing on the front lawn of the rectory—and I noticed a car pulling into the parking lot.  A Dominican priest dressed in his white habit got out and began walking toward the front door of the church.  Well the church was locked at the time so I went over to open it and let him in.  I said, “Father, what brings you to Westerly this afternoon?”  (I recognized him immediately.  He’s a well-known priest—an expert on medical/moral issues.)  He said, “Well, I’ve always wanted to come to this place, but I’ve never had the opportunity.  But today I did have some extra time.  I’m on my way back to PC from New York City where I gave a talk at a conference and I decided to take a detour here to St Pius.”  We talked for a few minutes, and then I let him into the church so he could pray for a while.  As I was walking back to the rectory afterwards, the thought occurred to me, “Fr Ray, think about what that priest just said (“I’ve always wanted to come to this place.”)  That’s what you said when you got off the train in Lourdes for the first time.  That’s what you said when you arrived in Fatima the first time.  That’s what you said when you walked into St Peter’s Basilica for the first time.  Well this priest—this well-known, highly respected priest—just said that about little old St Pius X Church in Westerly, Rhode Island!  I guess this place really is special!”

Yes, it is.

Which brings us to the second reading, that text from 2 Timothy, chapter 2.  Timothy was a young priest at the time, and St. Paul in this letter gives him some fatherly advice on how to conduct his priestly ministry and what he can expect as he serves the Lord.  And he uses his own experience as a priest to do that. He begins with a little dose of reality—which is always a good thing.  He says, in effect, “Tim, don’t expect your priestly ministry to be a picnic, because it won’t be!  Don’t expect everyone to love you and tell you you’re great, because that’s not gonna happen.”  Paul writes, “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David: such is the gospel for which I am suffering, even to the point of chains, like a criminal.”

But it’s important to note that this suffering Paul is talking about is suffering with a purpose; it’s suffering with a goal.  And that makes all the difference in the world! People will suffer willingly if there’s a good purpose and goal that they have in view.  Parents suffer with a good goal in view: to raise their children well; soldiers and professional athletes suffer through pain and physical training with a good goal in view: to win a war or to win a championship.  Well, a priest suffers because he has a goal in view—the highest and most important goal of all—the salvation of souls!  Which, not surprisingly, is exactly what St.  Paul says here.  He writes: “Therefore, I bear with everything for the sake of those who are chosen, so that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus together with eternal glory.”

Finally St. Paul mentions in this text some important things that Timothy needs to remember as he conducts his priestly ministry.  Paul’s message to the young priest is simple and clear.  He basically says. “Tim, as you do your priestly work remember: If we have died with Christ in baptism and by living a life of faith—we shall also live with him; if we persevere in living the faith we shall also reign with Christ in his eternal kingdom. But if we deny the Lord by our words and actions [we have that power because we have free will] then he will deny us.  But if we are unfaithful in some way to him he still remains faithful to us—faithful to his promise to be merciful to us—faithful to his promise to take us back if we sincerely repent and ask for his forgiveness.  That’s why there’s always hope for a sinner—until his dying breath.”

Another way to say all that is, “Tim, your priestly vocation is to get people right with God; to help them stay right with God, and if they get estranged from God, to help them find their way back to God.”

That’s what I signed up for forty years ago on October 12, 1985—and for that I thank God.  Which is how I’ll conclude my homily today, in imitation of that one healed leper who came back to thank Jesus in today’s gospel story. (This, by the way, is not an exhaustive list of the things I’m grateful for today.  It’s just a list of some of the more noteworthy highlights.)

First of all, I thank the Lord Jesus Christ for calling me to serve him in the priesthood.  I didn’t deserve that calling; I didn’t merit that calling.  It was the Lord’s undeserved and unmerited gift.  I thank him for giving me a family that supported me and encouraged me—but never pressured me—when I was discerning my vocation, and who’ve supported me throughout my priestly ministry.  I thank the Lord for blessing my life with good priests like Fr. Giudice and Monsignor Struck, who were great role models for me in the priesthood.  I thank the Lord for giving me a love and reverence for his word in Sacred Scripture.  I thank the Lord Jesus for giving me the awesome power to change ordinary bread and wine into his Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist, to spiritually nourish his people on earth.  I thank the Lord for giving me the awesome power to forgive sins in his name—even the worst sins imaginable—in the sacrament of Reconciliation.  I thank the Lord for bringing me to this parish 37 years ago: I thank him for making this place a “spiritual powerhouse (to quote Bishop Tobin).  I thank him for the conversions that have taken place here, especially in the lives of our youth.  I thank him for the vocations that have come from this community.  And I thank the Lord for all of you (as well as the people of St. Francis de Sales) for putting up with me and for supporting me with your love and with your prayers for the last 40 years.  I ask you to continue to pray for me, that I will continue to be able to be active in ministry for a long time to come.  With prostate cancer, multiple myeloma and Parkinson’s Disease on my medical resume, I’m not exactly sure what I have “left in the tank” so to speak.  But I already told the Lord, “Whatever I’ve got left, you can have.”

Pray it’s a lot.

A Lesson from Habakkuk and Our Lady of Fatima: The Vision Still Has Its Time

 

The three children to whom Our Lady appeared at Fatima: Jacinta, Francisco and Lucia.

(Twenty-seventh Sunday of the Year (C): This homily was given on October 5, 2025 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Habakkuk 1: 2-3; 2:2-4.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-seventh Sunday 2025]

It was sometime between 605 and 597 B.C.—during one of the darkest periods in the history of God’s chosen people.  At the time idolatry was the internal threat to the Kingdom of Judah, while the nation of Babylon with its strong army was the external threat. 

In the midst of this terrible situation the prophet Habakkuk cried out to God.  He cried out in the words that we heard in today’s first reading: “How long, O Lord?  I cry for help but you do not listen!  I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not intervene.  Why do you let me see ruin; why must I look at misery?  Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and clamorous discord.”

The Lord then answered Habakkuk with these important lines of Scripture: “Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily.  For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.  The rash one has no integrity; but the just one, because of his faith, shall live.”

For the vision still has its time.  God was saying to Habakkuk, and to the faithful people of Judah, “My plan for you will be fulfilled; this I promise.  It may not happen instantaneously, or as quickly as you would like it to, or even in the way you would like it to.  But don’t give up!  Continue to live by faith, even if the fulfillment of this prophecy is delayed for a long time.”

These were important words for the people of Judah to hear and take to heart, because in point of fact things would get a lot worse before they got any better!  At the beginning of my homily I told you that this prophecy was given between 605 and 597 B.C.  Well in 597 B.C. the Babylonians invaded the holy city of Jerusalem and captured its king; ten years later they destroyed the city and burned down the Temple.  Then they took most of the people of Judah with them to Babylon, where they would remain in exile until 537. 

That means that this prophecy of Habakkuk wasn’t fulfilled for 70 or so years!  And I’m sure that many of the Lord’s chosen people wondered during those 7 decades whether it would ever be fulfilled.  They were hoping and praying—and hoping and praying—but for a long time nothing seemed to be happening!

Was that because God was slow in responding?

Not at all!  It took almost 70 years because human beings are slow to respond to his grace—the grace that he pours out on us and on the world whenever we pray and intercede!

The vision still has its time.  This is also an important message for us to hear and take to heart.  We need to apply it to our own individual lives, and to the current situation of the world in which we live.  Most of us, for example, pray for peace in the world.  We pray for justice; we pray for conversions.  Many of us actively and vocally oppose immorality.  Some of us devote our time and our talents and our resources to promote a greater respect for human life.

And yet, in spite of our many prayers and efforts, the positive changes don’t come instantaneously!  That can be very discouraging. 

But the Lord is still at work; the vision still has its time—that’s God’s message to us today!  And so we need to pray perseveringly and to work for peace and justice perseveringly, knowing that if we do those things God will continue to pour out his saving grace on the world.  And if grace is continually poured out, eventually some people will respond positively to it.  

Let me give you one historical example that illustrates what I’m talking about, and why this type of perseverance in prayer and good works is so important.  On October 13 in 1917 the so-called Miracle of the Sun  (when the sun seemed to spin and plummet toward the earth) occurred in conjunction with one of the apparitions of Our Blessed Mother at Fatima in Portugal.

This supernatural event, which was witnessed by tens of thousands of people—including a number of non-believers and atheists—was a sign that was sent by God to verify the messages Mary had given to the 3 children (Francisco, Jacinta and Lucia) beginning on May 13^th of that year.

This, of course, happened toward the end of the First World War.  That’s important, because Mary told the children to (and here I quote) “pray the Rosary every day, in order to obtain peace for the world, and the end of the war.”

Then she gave a warning about Russia—which is very interesting because at the time Russia was not the world power that it was for most of the rest of the 20^th century.  The Bolsheviks, in fact, were just coming to power during the month when the last Fatima apparition took place. 

Mary said that Russia needed to be consecrated to her Immaculate Heart and that prayers needed to be offered for the nation—especially in the form of the First Saturday Devotion—so that it would be converted.  Here are Mary’s words as Lucia later wrote them down: “If my requests are heeded, Russia will be converted, and there will be peace; if not, she will spread her errors throughout the world, causing wars and persecutions of the Church. The good will be martyred, and the Holy Father will have much to suffer, various nations will be annihilated.  In the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph.”

Well, we all know what happened.  Russia was not converted; Soviet Communism was exported to a number of other nations—by force; and the world lived under the threat of nuclear war for decades.

But then, amazingly, in late 1989 the Berlin Wall came down and Eastern Bloc Communism as we knew it quickly disintegrated.

If you had told me back in the 1960s that the powerful Soviet Empire would break up, and that communism in Eastern Europe would come to an end in a relatively peaceful manner and without a major military conflict, I would have said you were crazy—and so would almost everyone else who was alive at the time!

In my humble opinion (and in the opinion of many other people) this peaceful collapse of Soviet Communism was not primarily the result of politics and diplomacy (although politics and diplomacy were involved, to be sure).   Rather, the primary cause of the collapse was spiritual: it was the combined spiritual effect of all those millions of Rosaries and Communions and prayers that had been offered for Russia’s conversion since the apparitions at Fatima in 1917.  All of that, coupled with the consecration of Russia to the Immaculate Heart of Mary by Pope John Paul II, was at the heart of this peaceful miracle of recent history. 

And speaking of our former Holy Father, I definitely don’t think it was a coincidence that he was one of the primary human instruments that God used (even in the diplomatic arena) to bring this about.  As a Catholic man, he was deeply devoted to the Blessed Mother; and, as pope, he was consecrated to her in a special way.  As you will recall, his papal motto, “Totus Tuus”—Totally Yours—referred to Mary!

The vision still has its time.

In 1917, Mary set forth “the vision”—the vision of a world without Russia’s atheistic system of government.  I’m sure that many believers doubted if the vision would ever become a reality—especially believers in Communist countries who were suffering for their faith during the years when the Soviets were directing their governments. 

But the vision still had its time.  Because of the prayers of so many, grace continued to be poured forth from the throne of God, until enough hearts were softened in the world, and positive changes began to take place.  In the words of the Lord to Habakkuk, the vision “pressed on to [its] fulfillment, and did not disappoint.”

The “visions” of today (especially the visions of a more just and peaceful world) also press on to their fulfillment—which is why we should never stop praying for God’s will to be done, or doubt God’s ability to do the “impossible”.