30th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2025 - Priesthood Sunday - Humble Trust & Risks for God

 

A few years ago, for my new year’s resolution, I attempted to learn how to play the violin. I grew up playing a little bit of piano and trumpet and sang in the choir in high school and in seminary; so, I was pretty familiar with reading music, and figured, how hard could the violin really be? So, I got a hold of a violin, and realized pretty quickly that if I was going to progress in this instrument, I was going to need to take some lessons: I didn’t even know if I was holding the thing correctly.

And I have to admit, those first few violin lessons, were very humbling. I admitted to my violin teacher that I was a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed: a grown adult, a priest, several college degrees, and I could barely get through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” without the violin sounding like I was torturing some poor animal.

After several months there was some progression and I decided that I had fulfilled my new year’s resolution. But, I really have to admit: those first few weeks, were very humbling, and very uncomfortable. The violin didn’t care about my degrees, about the time I spent visiting the sick, or teaching in the classroom. And to sit with this professional violin player was kind of embarrassing. I felt like a little child.

But, I’m so glad I risked a little embarrassment, because now I can pick up the violin every now and then—one of my favorite musical instruments—and enjoy playing it a bit.

You may have had a similar experience: learning a new skill always involves that initial moment when you feel a bit like a child. But that’s not a bad thing: children are often much more courageous than adults. They don’t worry about what people think of them, they just engage. They’ll try new things because they look fun. They play without self-regard. They quickly make new friends—they are able to do things that many adults would be humiliated over doing—but that’s the key to their joy isn’t it…not fearing humiliation.

Would we honor Saint Francis of Assisi, if he had allowed his fears of what others thought of him to control his life? If he worried about being considered “overly religious”? Or St. Paul, what if he had allowed his fear of leaving his home country keep him from his missionary journeys. Or Saint Clare? What if she let social pressures keep her from leaving behind her family wealth to pursue radical holiness. So many of the great Saints risk humiliation, they risk failure, they risk mockery, in order to pursue true greatness.

Many of our young people do not consider entering the religious life or going to the seminary because of social and even family pressure “What will they think of me if I joined the monastery.” But, in the Christian life, each one of us absolutely needs to ask ourselves: do I want to be great in the eyes of the world, or in the eyes of God?

I pray that fear—fear of being considered “overly religious”—is not keeping anyone here from becoming more active in the life of holiness and the life of the parish. The parish needs your creativity; the Church needs you to take risks for God.

When I first started considering my priestly vocation and I visited the seminary for the first time as a freshman in college—what deeply impressed me most of all—was that here were men my age—and I was just 18 years old at the time—men my age willing to take a risk for God—not for themselves, but for Christ and His Church. And these were talented, smart, athletic young men who could go on to be very successful businessmen and find beautiful wives and have happy families if they wanted. None of them HAD to go to seminary. But I tell you, for myself, and for many of those men who are now priests, the risk has paid off. Because it’s not really a risk when the one you are trusting is God. God is the great “Guaranteer”. It’s guaranteed that what you give to God will be blessed and multiplied. And I hope that you believe that. That you will be blessed in this life and in the next, when you entrust your time, talent, treasure, and life to God for the good of the mission of the Church.

Since 2003, in the United States, the last Sunday of October has been designated Priesthood Sunday, an opportunity for us to pray for vocations to the priesthood and to consider the role of the priesthood.

But, where do priestly vocations come from? From family members pushing their sons to consider seminary? Maybe. Family support is helpful. But I think on a deeper level vocations come from humble trust—trust, that when we put God first, we are blessed. It comes from asking personally, “God how are you calling me, personally to serve the mission of the Church” That’s what needs to be cultivated in families. Openness to serving in whatever way God calls you to.

That’s a major reason why I left my pastorate of St. Ignatius of Antioch to come here. I was happy there. It was challenging, but I like challenges: a country boy in the inner city surrounded by homelessness, drug problems, crime, gang violence, prostitution, poverty. But when the Bishop asked me to come here—and he did ask, he didn’t command—when he asked, I believe God speaks through the bishop to his priests, to all of us. And amidst the challenges of these last four months, I’ve had to call that to mind once or twice—to recall that with the challenges of the two parishes—the needs of the parishes in 2025, I have to trust God.

Where is God calling you to humbly trust Him—with your time, energy, ability—in your prayer life, your civic life, your family life, your leisure time, your involvement in the parish?

“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Don’t you want to be exalted by God? Then follow where he calls. Humbly trust, that what you have to offer IS what the Father desires to be entrusted back to Him.

May God bless our priests, on this priesthood Sunday. And may he guide and strengthen all of us in His service, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2022 - Taking Risks for God and Spiritual Growth

 

One year, for my new year’s resolution, I attempted to learn how to play the violin. I grew up playing a little bit of piano and trumpet, and sang in the choir in high school and in seminary; so I was pretty familiar with reading music, and figured, how hard could the violin really be? So I got a hold of a violin, and realized pretty quickly that if I was going to progress in this instrument, I was going to need to take some lessons: I didn’t even know if I was holding the thing correctly.

And I have to admit, those first few violin lessons, were very humbling. I admitted to my violin teacher that I was a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed: a grown adult, a priest, several college degrees, and I could barely get through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” without the violin sounding like I was torturing some poor animal. 

After several months there was some progression and discerned that I had fulfilled my new year’s resolution. But, I really have to admit, those first few weeks, were very humbling, and very uncomfortable. The violin didn’t care about my degrees, about the time I spent visiting the sick, or teaching in the classroom. And to sit with this professional violin player was kind of embarrassing. I felt like a little child. 

But, I’m so glad I risked a little embarrassment, because now I can pick up the violin every now and then—one of my favorite musical instruments—and enjoy playing it a bit.

You may have had a similar experience: learning a new skill always involves that initial moment when you feel a bit like a child. But that’s not a bad thing: children are often much more courageous than adults. They don’t worry about what people think of them, they just engage. They’ll try new things because they look fun. They play without self-regard. They quickly make new friends—they are able to do things that many adults would be humiliated over doing—but that’s the key to their joy isn’t it…not fearing humiliation.

Would we honor Saint Francis of Assisi, if he had allowed his fears of what others thought of him to control his life? If he worried about being considered “overly religious”? Or St. Paul, what if he had allowed his fear of offending the sensibilities of the Gentiles keep him from his missionary journeys. Or Saint Clare? What if she let social pressures keep her from leaving behind her family wealth to pursue radical holiness. So many of the great Saints risk humiliation, they risk failure, they risk mockery, in order to pursue true greatness.

Many of our young people do not consider entering the religious life or going to the seminary. “What will they think of me if I joined the monastery.” But, in the Christian life, each one of us absolutely needs to ask ourselves: do I want to be great in the eyes of the world, or in the eyes of God?

I pray that fear—fear of being considered “overly religious” or—is not keeping anyone here from become more active in the life of holiness and the life of the parish. The parish needs your creativity, the parish needs your efforts and your mistakes, the Church needs your Courage. 

In today’s Gospel of the Pharisee and the tax collector, Jesus praises the child-like humility of the tax collector while denouncing the arrogance of the Pharisee. 

Here are two men, both go to Temple, both go to church, both engage in something they call prayer, but one is pleasing in the eyes of God and one is not. 

There is a parallel here with Cain and Abel. Remember, all the way back in the beginning of Genesis: both Cain and Abel offer sacrifices to God, but only Abel’s sacrifice was found pleasing to God, while Cain’s was not. For Abel’s sacrifice was filled with faith and love, while Cain’s was not.

Similarly with the Pharisee: his prayer in the Gospel today is filled with self-congratulation and ridicule of those he judges as lower than himself, while the tax-collector, becomes childlike and takes the lowest place, recognizing that before God he is but a humble sinner and only God can save Him. 

The Pharisee acts as if the point of prayer is to talk about how great he is, instead of approaching God, humbly like the tax collector to recognize how great God is. 

The tax collector thus teaches us an indispensable lesson for the Christian life: we must start off each day beating our breast, saying, “God, I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m just a lowly sinner. Teach me. Teach me how to pray. Teach me how to live.” 

Notice, too that, the tax collector beats his breast, as he says “O God, be merciful to me a sinner”. Be merciful to me. Have mercy. We say those words at the beginning of every Mass. Lord, have mercy. We begin Mass with those words, with that gesture, with that posture of humility because that attitude is to animate the whole of our lives. 

Beating our breasts in humble admission of one’s lowliness, of one’s sinfulness, symbolizes our desire to break down the barrier between our heart and God’s heart. Whatever it takes Lord, break the hardness in my heart, break the coldness, break the selfishness, break the attachment to sin, whatever it takes, even if it requires me being humiliated. 

It’s not easy to admit that we are sinners. It requires us to admit our faults, our wrongs: it’s humbling. As hard as it is, as hard as it is to go Sacramental Confession after a particularly embarrassing sin, humbling ourselves before God is often the beginning of something great. Humility allows God’s power to begin to change us, fill us, and bring us true joy. 

The proud Pharisee is impervious to growth because he doesn’t believe he can grow—or needs to grow—he knows everything, he believes he already is better than everybody. The Pharisees throughout the Gospels fail to recognize that Jesus is God because the Pharisee doesn’t really acknowledge a god outside of himself. And like Cain, the Pharisee becomes a murderer of his brother, condemning Jesus to an unjust death.

The Lord concludes the parable by teaching, “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The Christian who recognizes his need for God’s mercy, who becomes like the child before God, like the tax collector shall experience exaltation in eternity; while those who go throughout life convinced of their own self-righteousness, like the Pharisee, shall be humbled when Christ returns as judge. There can be no spiritual growth without humility, there can be no salvation without recognizing one’s need for a savior. 

At holy Mass, today, at every holy Mass, we have a choice: do we come here, entering God’s Temple, in the spirit of the Pharisee or the tax collector. The one who keeps God out, or welcomes God into one’s heart, one’s soul—the one who feigns perfection, or the one who acknowledges sin. May all that is Pharisaical be transformed by God’s love for us and our willingness to practice humility and faith for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

Homily: 30th Sunday in OT 2016 - The humble shall be exalted

A few months ago, I got the great idea to learn how to play the violin. I grew up playing a little bit of piano and trumpet; I sang in the choir in high school and in seminary, so I’m pretty familiar with reading music. And so I figured, how hard could the violin really be? So I got a hold of a violin, and realized pretty quickly that if I was going to progress in this instrument, I was going to need to take some lessons: I didn’t even know if I was holding the thing correctly.

And I have to admit, those first few violin lessons, were very humbling. I admitted to my violin teacher that I was a bit uncomfortable: you know, a grown adult, a priest, several college degrees, and I could barely get through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” without the violin sounding like I was torturing some poor cat.

Now, several months later, I’ve progressed a little. Father Klasinski may disagree, but it doesn’t quite sound like I’m tormenting small animals in my room when I practice. But, I really have to admit, those first few weeks, were very humbling, and very uncomfortable. The violin didn’t care about my degrees, about the time I spent visiting the sick, or teaching in the classroom. And to sit with this professional violin player was kind of embarrassing. I felt like a little child.

But, I’m so glad I risked a little embarrassment, because now I’m able to enjoy practicing and playing one of my favorite musical instruments.

You may have had a similar experience: learning a new language, a new skill, always involves a little bit of humiliation. But when we willingly undergo that humiliation, that makes all the difference. One wonders if there can be any real growth without humiliation—we have to be willing to become like little children.

Sometimes I think little children are much more courageous than adults. They don’t worry about what people think of them, they just engage. They’ll try new things because they look fun. They play without self-regard. They quickly make new friends—they are able to do things that many adults would be humiliated over doing—but that’s the key to their joy isn’t it…not fearing humiliation.

Not only is this true in making a new friend, learning a new skill, enjoying a new hobby, facing humiliation is also important for new growth in the spiritual life.

Would we honor Saint Francis as a great Saint if he had allowed his fears of what others thought of him to control his life? If he worried about being considered “overly religious”? Or Saint Clare? What if she let social pressures keep her from leaving behind her family wealth to pursue radical holiness. Or St. Paul, what if he had left his fear of unknown lands keep him from his missionary journeys. So many of the great Saints risk humiliation, they risk failure, they risk mockery, in order to pursue true greatness.

I think this fear is why many of our young people do not consider entering the religious life or going to the seminary. What will they think of me if I joined the monastery. But, I think each of us, in the Christian life, have to ask ourselves, do we want to be great in the eyes of the world, or in the eyes of God?

I pray that fear of the unknown, this fear of humiliation, the fear of being considered “overly religious” -- does not keep anyone here from joining the choir or becoming a Eucharistic minister or volunteering your time in charitable service.

In today’s Gospel of the Pharisee and the tax collector, Jesus praises the humility of the tax collector while denouncing the arrogance of the Pharisee. The Pharisee was unwilling to humble himself before God. The Pharisee goes into the Temple, but the words he offers are more of an exercise in self-congratulation than prayer.

Real prayer, the prayer of the tax collector, is like learning that musical instrument, learning that new language, that new skill, it’s about making ourselves vulnerable before God, recognizing that before God, I’m a child, I barely know how to walk, to talk, stand.

Some people say, they don’t like to pray because they really don’t know how to pray. Wonderful. That’s the first step! That’s the right attitude! In the Gospel, Jesus condemns those who just sort of babble, who offer this long list of prayers without having the right disposition of heart.

The Pharisee failed to pray because he maintained this shell of pride around his heart. He thought that prayer was standing up in the temple and talking about how great he was, instead of kneeling like the tax collector and recognizing how great God is.

You can see it in the difference in the postures of the two men. The Pharisee stands proud, arrogant, the tax collector kneels, doesn’t even lift his head to heaven, he beats his breast praying, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner”. Be merciful to me. Have mercy. We say those words at the beginning of every Mass. Lord, have mercy. We begin Mass with those words so that we may have a true posture of prayer throughout the whole Mass.

It’s not easy to admit that we are sinners. It requires to break the shell of our pride. That’s why I love that gesture of beating the breast during the Confiteor and first Eucharistic prayer: it’s like breaking down the barrier I’ve placed between my heart and God’s heart.

As hard as it is, as hard as it is to go Sacramental Confession after a particularly embarrassing sin, humbling ourselves before God is often the beginning of something great. Humility allows God’s power to begin to change us, fill us, and bring us true joy.

Jesus’ ended the parable by teaching, “for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The Christian who recognizes his need for God’s mercy, shall receive that mercy; while those who go throughout life convinced of their own self-righteousness, shall be humbled when Christ returns as judge. There can be no spiritual growth without humility, there can be no salvation without recognizing one’s need for a savior.

As Jesus comes to us again today, in word and sacrament, may our posture before him be that of the humble tax collector, and may that posture of humility be the beginning of new spiritual growth, a flowering of new spiritual gifts, a new chapter of service for the glory of God and salvation of souls.