(Twenty-second
Sunday of the Year (C): This homily was given on September 1, 2019 St. Pius X
Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.
Read Sirach 3:17-29; Psalm 68:4-11; Hebrews 5:18-24A; Luke 14:1, 7-14.)
[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-second Sunday 2019]
You could call it “the irony of humility” or “the irony
about humility”. The irony of humility is
this:
- The more you consider yourself to be humble, the less
humble you actually are.
- The more you think that you’ve mastered the virtue of
humility in your life, the less humility you actually have in your heart.
Thinking that you’re humble, my brothers and sisters, is
really a manifestation of pride (which, of course, is one of the seven deadly
sins!). You might say that the person
who thinks he’s humble is merely proud of his humility—although he
misunderstands what humility actually is.
Jesus makes the importance of humility crystal clear in
this gospel text we just heard from Luke 14, as does Sirach in our first
reading when he says, “My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and
you will be loved more than a giver of gifts. Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God.”
Now, contrary to popular belief, the genuinely humble
person does not think less of himself than he should. That’s a very common misunderstanding. Thinking less of yourself than you should is
called “having a poor self-image”—and that’s not what the Lord wants for us. Quite oppositely, the genuinely humble person
DOES think of himself as he should—because he knows and accepts the full truth
about himself! The genuinely humble
person knows, for example, that he’s created in the image and likeness of God,
and as such has a dignity and value beyond anything else in the material
universe. He also understands that God
loves him just as he is—but too much to let him stay that way!
The genuinely humble person knows that he’s been given
gifts—that he’s been blessed in special and unique ways by God—and that
everything that’s truly good in his life and in his heart comes ultimately from
the Lord. So he gives God (and not
himself) the glory for all of it. And,
at the very same time, the genuinely humble person sees himself as a wretched
sinner: a sinner who needs reconciliation with God every single day! He knows that he can’t save himself by his
good deeds; he knows that he can’t earn God’s forgiveness by his own power; and
so every day he makes the tax collector’s prayer his own: “Lord, have mercy on
me, a sinner.”
Thus the truly humble person would never make the mistake
of taking the place of prominence at the banquet table that Jesus talks about
in this gospel text. He’d know better.
I came across a great quote of Mother Teresa’s this past week
about humility. Mother Teresa said, “If you are humble nothing will touch you,
neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are. If you are blamed
you will not be discouraged. If they call you a saint you will not put yourself
on a pedestal.”
Whenever I read a quote like that, I realize how far I have
to go to achieve genuine humility in my own life. But that’s to be expected, because growing in
humility is a lifelong process: a process which will only stop when we go
before the Lord at the end of our earthly lives and see ourselves in God’s
perfect light. Then, and only then, will we see his greatness and our
weakness with perfect clarity.
Now if ever, in the future, you are tempted to think
otherwise; if ever, in the future, you are tempted to think that you no longer
need to be part of this process—that you no longer need to grow in the virtue
of humility in your life—my suggestion is to get yourself a copy of the Litany
of Humility and read it. Read it slowly;
read it carefully; think about what you’re saying. That should help to cure you of your pride
very quickly.
Without a doubt, this is one of the most difficult and
challenging prayers that’s ever been written.
In all honesty, because of my own pride, I have a very hard time praying
it from my heart. Interestingly enough,
it was written in the early 20th century by Cardinal Merry del Val—who
was the Vatican Secretary of State under Pope St. Pius X. I’ll conclude my homily today by reading the
prayer to you. Some of you know it, I’m
sure. By the way, if you do know it, I
would respectfully ask you not to
pray it out loud along with me today.
Just listen. Just listen
carefully to the words:
O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being loved, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being honored, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being praised, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred to others, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being approved, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being humiliated, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being despised, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged, deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected, deliver me, Jesus.
That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
If you can say that prayer—and truly mean it!—it’s a sign
that you’re on the right road in your life.
And that’s great! Praise God for
his grace at work within you! But then
don’t make the mistake—the catastrophic mistake—of thinking you’ve reached the
goal of becoming a genuinely humble person, because (as I said at the beginning
of my homily) the minute—the second—you think you’re humble, you’re not!
That’s the irony of humility. It’s also the truth.
