23rd Sunday, Year B, IC 3:8,
Our second reading presents
us with a picture of someone arriving in a Christian gathering, perhaps for
Mass, poorly attired. (Note, by the way, that it is the shabby clothing of the
poor and not immodest clothing–such as your pastor denounces–that is being
referred to there.) Saint James simply can’t stand the hypocrisy that pays
attention only to external decorum but neglects to consider the heart of a
person. It is one of the constant battles we have with things as they seem.
God does indeed make some requirements about how we approach Him–and these are,
in the main, how our souls approach Him in humility. A person whose heart is
all “dust and ashes” in lowliness before God is acceptable to Him, no matter
how he may look ‘on the face of’ him. We tend to put altogether too much
emphasis on the externals but too little on purity of soul. The saints of the
Church have often been those of lowly station, of simple, sickly, even poor
circumstances. It may be that it is precisely their condition, often of sheer
necessity rather than choice, that makes them apt
candidates for a stronger interior life. Genuine poverty is that of the heart (“blessed
are the poor in spirit”). Material poverty can help that spirit along because
it at least does not have to deal with the pretense of a making a good
appearance.
The other side to this true,
genuinely solid spirituality is our often soft and easy life–so cosmetically
clean–that disables us acquiring a certain strength of character so beneficial
to living a Christian life which is–say the Scriptures–a life of crucifixion to
the world. In fact, the danger is / that the more our concentration is placed
on ‘looking good’ the less it is devoted to things of the spirit. The reason is
that the spirit and the flesh in its fallen state are opposed to each other, to
quote a saying of
Being poor in spirit is being spiritually rich. You may recall that our
Lord once cursed a barren fig tree because it did not produce fruit; the tree
withered away. This was meant as an instruction, that we might know that God
makes His demands on us–not that we appear to be good, but to be virtuous in
reality. On another occasion, He castigated those who purify the exterior of
the cup but leave the interior in its depravity.
The practice of virtue is
what makes a Christian. This is both a divine and a human work. It takes a lot
of effort, but also requires God’s grace. The possession of humility, of purity,
of patience, of obedience, of dutifulness, of penitence: these are virtues that
all must acquire through practice. This is not a matter of assuming a certain
religious appearance, as if it were looks that mattered. This is rather the
practice of self-mastery, of self-conquest, and this is not cultivated without a certain violence to oneself, in the sense of a determined
work to toughen up. Once acquired, the possession of these virtues requires
jealous vigilance: the treasure can be easily stolen if one is not on guard to
maintain a good spiritual regimen. Frequent confession and daily prayer are
these protective means of safeguarding the progress we may have already
achieved.
Contrary to the projected image in our easy-going times of Catholicism ‘lite’, being a follower of Christ is a demanding joy. If it is made easy in any sense, it owes to God’s helping graces and to His merciful forgiveness. But we should not presume upon His goodness and think lightly of His generosity: to whom much has been given, much will be expected.