(Nineteenth Sunday of the Year (C): This homily was given
on August 7, 2016, at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond
Suriani. Read Hebrews 11.)
[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Nineteenth Sunday 2016]
The other day I came across the following poem. It’s entitled, “The Battle,” and it goes like
this:
Faith
and fear,
Soldiers
ever obedient and loyal,
Locked
in raging combat,
Across
the heart’s hidden battlefield.
Each
seeks the advantage required
To
control the fickle mind,
Burdened
as it is with the wretched curse,
Of one
man’s failed stand;
But
graced now and forever,
By
another’s blood-stained Royal Road.
At
stake in this crimson-colored clash
Of
generals supreme,
Is
dominion over all that matters—
In
time,
But not
in time alone.
Thus
the volleys will go on,
The
combat unabated,
Until
the war’s wearied host at last surrenders—
In
happiness or horror—
To his
conqueror eternal.
Most people would say that the opposite of faith is unbelief—and from one perspective they’d
be right. It is. To have faith
in God you obviously need to believe that he exists. So if you lack faith, you lack belief in a
Supreme Being. But from another
perspective you could say that the opposite of faith is fear. Here I’m not talking
about the good and healthy fear we have in our lives: the fear that leads us to
avoid evil things that can hurt us; rather, I’m talking about the kind of fear
that can lead us into sin and undermine our relationship with God. This is the fear, for example, of not being
loved and accepted by other people—which is a fear that can lead us to
compromise our morals, to do things that we otherwise would not do. I ask you, how many young women have had sex
with their boyfriends because they thought that if they didn’t, their
boyfriends would leave them?
That’s fear at work.
This bad fear is also the fear of not having enough (which
can lead us to steal or cheat on our taxes).
It’s the fear of losing what we already do have (which can lead us to
become greedy and materialistic). It’s
the fear of not being appreciated (which can lead us to put other people down
so that we can look good to our peers).
It’s the fear of being lonely and of losing friends (which can lead us
to form unhealthy friendships). It’s the fear of being taken advantage of
(which can lead us to take advantage of others “before they take advantage of
us”—sort of a “do unto others before
they do unto you” mentality). It’s the
fear of not getting something we think we deserve (which can lead to envy).
And on and on the list goes!
These are the fears that are at the root of most of the
sins people commit in their lives—even people of faith (although very often
those fears are not clearly recognized, even by people who believe). Which is why that poem says that faith and
fear are “locked in raging combat across the heart’s hidden battlefield.”
Whether we are aware of it or not, my brothers and sisters,
this is the core battle of life! Faith
and fear do battle in our hearts at every moment of every day, each seeking (as
the poem says) “the advantage required to control our fickle mind(s)” burdened
as they are “with the wretched curse of one man’s failed stand”—in other words
with the residual effects of the sin of Adam: original sin. You see, even after original sin is removed
in the sacrament of Baptism, a certain inclination
to sin remains in us. We call this
inclination—this weakness—“concupiscence”.
This is why at one moment we can be very strong and very faithful, and
in the very next moment extremely weak and completely unfaithful.
But we do have a power—in Jesus Christ—to overcome all
these ungodly fears and to live our lives in faithfulness and love. And that’s good news! As the poem puts it, we’ve been “graced now
and forever by another’s (that is to say, by Jesus’s) blood-stained Royal Road”
(in other words, by his passion, death—and subsequent resurrection). As Jesus says in today’s gospel, “Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.”
I mention all this today specifically because of our second
reading, which is taken from the 11th chapter of the Letter to the
Hebrews. Hebrews 11 begins with a brief
definition of faith: “Faith is the assurance of
things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Then it goes on to mention a number of Old
Testament saints, beginning with Abraham.
Think, for a moment, of the fears Abraham had to deal with during his
life. This passage says that when the
Lord called him, Abraham left his homeland “not knowing where he was to go”. Can you imagine doing that? It’s one thing to leave your home willingly, so that you can travel to a
destination of your choice. It’s quite another to leave your home and
your past life and not have a clue as to where you’re going to end up! So Abraham certainly had to face the fear of the unknown. And even though the Bible says he left his
homeland with all his possessions, he must have been concerned about thieves
stealing those things somewhere along the way (remember there were no police to
call for protection back then when you travelled; he couldn’t dial 911 on his
cellphone!)—which means he had to deal with one of the fears I mentioned
earlier: the fear of losing what you have. And if you’re battling the fear of losing
what you have, you’re probably also dealing with the fear of not having enough—of not having enough for your own
needs and the needs of the people you’re responsible for.
Those were just some of the fears Abraham
had to face during his life—and especially during his travels. But, more often than not, this man allowed
his faith to conquer his fear, which is why St. Paul refers to Abraham in Romans
4 as “our father”—our father in faith.
The other Old Testament saints mentioned
in Hebrews 11 also lived in faith most of the time. Although they all had their moments when fear
won out. Take David, for example—he’s
mentioned in verse 32 of this chapter. Faith
conquered fear in David on the day he went up against Goliath with a slingshot
and a few little stones. But fear
conquered faith in him on the day that he committed adultery with a woman named
Bathsheba, and on the day that he had her husband, Uriah, murdered on the
battlefield. It was the fear of not
having something that he thought he deserved (in this case, the fear of not
having someONE that he thought he deserved!).
What are the fears that you are battling
in your life right now? We all have
them. Some of them—specifically the ones
that keep us away from harmful people and harmful things—are good fears. I’m not talking about those! I’m talking about the fears I mentioned at
the beginning: the ones that can lead us into sin.
I encourage you to spend some time
reflecting on that question: What are the fears I’m battling in my life right
now? Because if we can come to recognize
the fears that are troubling us, we might be able to get at the roots of the
sins in our lives—and get rid of them for good.
Remember, there’s a lot at stake here. Recall the last part of the poem:
“At
stake in this crimson-colored clash of generals supreme (in other words,
this continuous battle in our hearts between faith and fear),
Is
dominion over all that matters—
In
time,
But not
in time alone.
Thus
the volleys will go on,
The
combat unabated,
Until
the war’s wearied host (that’s you and me—that’s each of us) at last surrenders—
In
happiness or horror—
To his
conqueror eternal.
You see, in the end, my brothers and sisters, either faith
will win the ultimate victory in us,
or fear will win out. One of those two
“generals” will be our personal “conqueror”—and the consequences of that
conqueror’s victory will be eternal.
So, make sure that FAITH wins the ultimate victory in your life. Make sure that faith is your eternal conqueror. I
certainly want faith to be mine! That’s why
I pray a lot, and receive the Eucharist often, and go to confession frequently,
and read Scripture daily—and even write some things about faith from time to
time.
Like the poem you just heard about in this homily.
