31st Sunday Year C - Homily 2

Homily 2 - 2010

We all seem to love to hate someone. Last week we had the Pharisee, who loved to hate the tax-collector, (and possibly ourselves, who love to hate the Pharisee). This week we have the crowd, who also do a job on a tax-collector – unanimous in labelling him a sinner. They even did a job on Jesus, grumbling that he went to stay at a sinner’s house.

I suppose that every culture needs to have those it hates, those it sees itself different from, those it sees itself better than. For some it is homosexuals, or abortionists, or asylum-seekers or perhaps Aborigines, or even just Collingwood barrackers.

It seems to be hard-wired into us that there will be some people with whom we automatically compare ourselves favourably, (and feel comfortingly virtuous in the process). It might even be our own peer group. I like to think myself better than some other priests, and will spontaneously think of half a dozen areas that seem to justify my view of myself – perhaps I pray more or don’t drink as much as or keep fitter than, or get up earlier. There might be as many other areas where they are obviously better than I am – but those areas don’t spontaneously enter into calculation. I am comfortably, and smugly, selective.

A catch is that it is easy for the attitude to escalate – from comparing to judging, from judging to condemning, from condemning to being hostile towards. Our world seethes with mutual hostilities – that can often translate into violence of some kind.

Though comparing ourselves to others seems to be spontaneous, second-nature, and universal, it need not be. I am not like the rest of men – as last week’s Pharisee mused to himself.

We are each unique. We are different. But in the broad scheme of things, the differences are minimal. You sin; I sin. You do some good things; I do some good things. Is the difference between us all that much? Perhaps, from God’s point of view, I am like the rest of men – and perhaps just as well.

The wonderful thing is that God loves us all. Did you notice this morning’s first Reading? In your sight, Lord, the whole world is like a grain of dust … , like a drop of morning dew falling on the ground. And in the light of the overwhelming richness of God’s love, the differences between my goodness and your goodness, my badness and your badness, are infinitesimal. You are merciful to all …, and overlook our sins so that we can repent. God can’t love you more than me; or love me more than you, because God already loves both of us totally and unconditioned.

As the first Reading put it: You spare all things because all things are yours, Lord, lover of life.  The Reading went on: Little by little, you correct those who offend, you admonish and remind them of how they have sinned, so that they may abstain from evil and trust in you. Because God loves us all, God does not wish to leave us in our sin – because sin is bad for us. Sin is the choice to relate to others in ways other than from respect and love – to relate competitively,judgmentally, with hostility.

Ultimately, trusting, loving relationships are the only way to happiness – they are in fact the very experience of true happiness. Sin is the choice against trust.

Jesus had no problem loving anyone. He could love an oppressive tax-collector; he could love a self-righteous Pharisee; he can love me; he can love you. He invites us all to repentance, to think again, to get things in perspective – because it is good for us – good for us as individuals; essential for us if we are to live fulfilled lives together.

And only as we learn to trust can we entrust ourselves to the loving embrace of God. The secret is to keep focussed on the absolutely overwhelming love of God. As the Psalmist put it so beautifully in today’s Responsorial Psalm: I will give you glory, O God, I will bless your name for ever. I will bless you day after day, and praise your name for ever… – fascinated by the absolutely overwhelming love of God.