Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time:

Zechariah 9: 9-10; Romans 8: 9, 11-13; Matthew 11:25-30

What is humility? It is GRATITUDE for life itself! JOY in being alive. Humility is Gratefulness for the gift of work—whether fulfilling in the moment or not. It sees every opportunity as a stepping stone to cherish, an opportunity to learn. “What is” – is enough to be good for each day.

Humility levels the playing field. It looks beyond position, social influence, prestige or income. It doesn’t judge. Humility defers to Hope. It keeps its sights on God — eschewing evaluation, judgement and critique on the mortal soul for the sake of the immortal soul. Saint Paul says, “abandon the flesh!” What he means by “flesh” is “self-interest above all other concerns.” His Letter to the Romans insists that this self-absorption constitutes hostility toward God. To live in selfishness is to refuse to accept why God made us and why we are here. Humility is the ability to see ourselves and others beyond our wants, our needs and preferences, beyond our assessment of “friend” or “foe.” To be humble, as Saint Paul says, is to “thrive in the Spirit!”

Sometimes it takes tragedies to bring us humility. War and conflict can make us bitter, but in faith, they humble us—making us ever mindful of human weakness, cruelty and sin with a desire to be done with it, once for all. Humility thinks not of the past but of the future. It releases us from the hell of hate and fear. During a time of civil and religious violence in India, a Hindu cried to Gandhi, “I’m going to Hell! I killed a child!” Gandhi asked, “Why did you do this?” He replied, “Because they killed my son! The Muslims killed my son!” “I know a way out of Hell,” said Gandhi. “Find a child, a child whose mother and father have been killed and raise him as your own. Only be sure that he is a Muslim and that you raise him as one.”

Examples of this kind of humility can be found in our recent history when, in the 1990’s, Churches and Synagogues sponsored refugee Muslim and Orthodox Christian families fleeing the genocide of the Bosnian/Herzegovina/Croatian/Serbia wars fueled by the atrocities of racist Serbian President Slobodan Milošević. Just as today, even amidst our cantankerous Immigration Policy debate, Churches and Synagogues are welcoming Serbian and Middle Eastern refugees with teams of faithful people offering room and board, language and technical skills to resettle here. And what have Americans in common with these families—neither language nor faith nor customs– except our common humanity? This is humility in action; evidence of grace.

Gandhi knew that humility is seeing another as a human being, and nothing more. Zechariah knew it.  Jesus knows it. Then, and only then, do we begin to respect what makes us different. But the difference remains secondary to the knowledge that because of the sins we have in common, we must transcend them lest we perpetuate them. Humility offers hope for the future. In the Second World War, two individuals from warring nations, decided to initiate a new beginning:

“A soldier wrote to a German mother: ‘As a member of a Commando unit raiding a village in France, it became my duty to kill your son… I earnestly ask your forgiveness, for I am, after all, called to be a Christian. . . I hope I may, some day after the war is over, talk with you face to face.’ The German mother received the note several months later, and she wrote to the English soldier in turn: ‘I find it in my heart to forgive you, even you who killed my son, for I too am a Christian . . . If we are living after the war is over I hope you will come to Germany to visit me, that you may take the place in my home, if only for a time, of my son whom you killed.’’

Indeed, Humility is seeing another as a human being, and nothing more. This is the only way the Vision of Zechariah, which is also Jesus’ vision, becomes a reality: when “the warrior’s bow is banished, and (the King) proclaims peace to the nations; his dominion stretching from sea to shining sea. Jesus invites us to accept this vision as our own. It’s a cross, but he bears the weight. And the Good News is we don’t need to wait for a war or tragedy to take it up. All we need be is humble.

Jesus doesn’t offer us the Eucharist because we deserve it. He looks beyond our pasts–good, bad and indifferent as they are—and sees human beings in need of Saving. Jesus knows our human hearts are prone to self-interests–be it our own, our families’, our nation’s or that of our Church. So, he invites us to come “down to earth,” offering us spiritual food that our bodies must digest. His Eucharistic meal invites us to keep our sights on the horizon. Only an honest, humble stance will create the gratitude needed for this meal to have its full effect. Otherwise we tend to relive the past, the blame, the regrets, or indulge today without any thought of tomorrow. As recipients of His Eucharist he asks us to see ourselves and to see others in the same way: dependent on God and one another. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”