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26 Sep 2010 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

PEOPLE IN THE United States are among the most generous on earth. We're also among the guiltiest: That is, we feel guilty about our many advantages. But are we actually guilty of anything besides success—and is it a sin, in the end, to be comfortable? That's the lurking suspicion that makes many of us uncomfortable. Somehow we've absorbed the idea that God doesn't like rich people. Does the Bible make the case against the rich? On the contrary, it's easy to make a defense for the rich. "Blessing theology" fearlessly maintains that prosperity is evidence of virtue. Wealth, health, lots of children, and a long life are biblical signs of God's favor. It's a quid pro quo spirituality that's always been popular and remains intact despite the prevailing economic conditions. Its primary attraction is that it puts all the control for our quality of life in our hands. We know what to do to make God and ourselves happy in one fell swoop. Blessing theology is the best insurance policy you can buy. But is it vaporware? In the poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson, Richard Cory glitters when he walks and still puts a bullet in his head. Otherwise physically healthy folks experience depression. People with umpteen children may not enjoy happy families. Not all who reach the age of 90 are glad they did. Material success and satisfaction are not birthed as twins. On the other hand, the mythical relationship between poverty and virtue is likewise fiction. In the parable of Lazarus we see no mention that the man covered with sores is morally superior to the rich man who barely notes him. What bothers the prophet Amos (who's easily bothered) and what condemns Dives (Latin for "rich guy") is the same fault: not that people are prosperous but that prosperity has led to indifference. Amos never says that folks on beds of ivory chowing down on farm animals sin by doing so; that is not an indictment against Sealy Posturepedic or a manifesto of vegetarianism (Amos is both a shepherd and a tree farmer!). Nor does Jesus imply that Dives does badly in eternity for doing so well on earth. The crime that enrages the prophets and consigns Dives to the netherworld is, simply, not caring. The poor suffered, and the comfortable changed the channel. "I've got mine" can seem like a good life plan. We can extend that to "my family has theirs" or "our nation has ours" but it all comes down to the same dangerous scenario. You know that chasm between where Lazarus is and Dives wants to be in the end? Dives dug that with his own two hands. Too bad it never occurred to him to build a bridge instead. Scripture links The first and the last: Matt. 19:30, 20:16, 27; Mark 9:35; Luke 9:48 The poor will have good things: Luke 1:46-55, 4:18-19, 6:20-23 The blind see: Matt. 11:4-5 Surprises in the kingdom: Matt. 7:13-14, 9:13, 21:31-32, 25:31-45 Are sinners born to suffer?: John 9:1-40 Catechism links Charity: CCC 736; 864; 1812-1813; 1822-1829; 1832; 1889; 2055; 2831

Authors Alice Camille

guilt sin comfort Generosity Wealth

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22 Feb 2009 - Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

Everyone on TV is pretty,” a little girl was overheard to say one day. And the same is true in magazine ads, in movies, and on billboards. They are young and healthy and physically attractive. They define the way people “should” look and feel and be. Yet few of us fit that profile, and even those who manifest the physical characteristics may still bear wounds and worries within. Within the community this week will be people who feel a stigma about their physical infirmities—a disability, advancing age, chronic illness. There will be people who feel that their condition is somehow “their own fault,” even if there was nothing they could have done to prevent or avoid it. They still feel a sense of guilt or shame. And in the community will be people who have a hard time believing the Lord’s promise in Isaiah: “Your sins I remember no more.” And the continuing worry about their sins has them paralyzed, trapped in the past. They twist the words of the old Nat “King” Cole song to “Unforgivable, that’s what you are.” Jesus has a healing word for each of them.

guilt shame jesus Healing trapped in the past

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Homily stories

25 Jan 2009 - Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

I used to feel guilty I wasn’t like the first apostles, ready to drop everything and run after Jesus. I know how many attachments I tend to hang onto, even when I think I’m “letting go and letting God.” And yet if you read farther in the gospels, it’s clear the apostles also still had a lot of learning to do as they became disciples. They often misunderstood Jesus. They tried to block people, even children, from getting near him. They jockeyed with each other for prime position next to Jesus (not realizing that getting next to Jesus meant getting next to the cross!). Peter even publicly denied knowing him. Seeing that, I’m somehow relieved. When Jesus calls to each of us, “Come, follow me,” we can be assured that is simply the first of many steps along the way. Sometimes we may falter, sometimes we will be strong. Sometimes we will follow closely, sometimes we will get lost. In any case, we know we can always find the way. Just listen for the one who keeps beckoning, “Come, follow me.”

Authors Tom McGrath

guilt follow jesus disciples

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16 Feb 2025 - Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

I schlepped a lot of guilt with me up the hill as we climbed the Mount of Beatitudes. I was part of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and had gladly agreed to lead music for our daily Masses. But then I’d learned a certain diva was upset that I’d not yet tapped her to sing the Ave Maria. It weighed on me. Was I just being stubborn, too bent on finding a “liturgically appropriate” occasion for this woman to share her beautiful voice? It bothered me, too, that she involved the pilgrimage leader instead of coming to me—since we’d seemed to really hit it off. I can’t remember which version of the Beatitudes were proclaimed that day—presumably Matthew’s version from the Sermon on the Mount, since we were on the Mount of the Beatitudes—but it didn’t matter. My thoughts were elsewhere. I should have been comforted by the words “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” as I was feeling awful. Had we been using Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, I would have felt even worse, as “Blessed are you who are poor” always pinged my sense of privilege and, by now, the impoverished Palestinians we saw everywhere grabbed my heartstrings. As we boarded the bus, I sat alone with my ruminating. I finally realized the guilt I was feeling concerned no diva at all—unless of course that diva was me. I’d missed the gift of a beautiful place on a glorious day. I’d missed the comfort and truth of the day’s gospel. And it was all because I was too self-absorbed to ask Jesus into my troubled heart.

Authors Mary Lynn Hendrickson

beatitudes sermon on the mount guilt

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